


The Celebrity Apprentices

by Persnickety



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Apprenticeship, Dumbledore Lives, Eventual Sex, F/M, HP: EWE, Long, M/M, Romance, Severus Snape Lives, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-07 20:18:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 76,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6822451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persnickety/pseuds/Persnickety
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war is over and Voldemort is deader than Moses. The Golden Trio is preparing to move on with their lives and establish their careers when Hermione and Neville are invited to join the Hogwarts staff as its first apprentices in decades.</p><p>Canon compliant through HBP; Hermione never liked camping anyway.</p><p>All hail J.K. Rowling, creator of the Harry Potter Universe and all contained therein. I receive no compensation from this work other than your wonderful comments!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Aftermath

It all started because of a kiss.

Or, rather, it had all _not_ started because of a kiss.

After the Battle of Hogwarts, during which Ron had laid a filthy, wet, and somewhat terrified kiss on Hermione’s equally filthy, wet, and terrified face, Ron had calmly taken her aside and explained that it had been the next thing to kissing his sister. And that, on second thought, since kissing Lavender, Parvati, and Susan over the course of the past few years hadn’t really panned out either, he quite thought that he might not be interested in witches at all. If kissing Hermione, the one non-family female whom he _knew_ he loved, did nothing for him then perhaps he was kissing the wrong type of person altogether.

Upon which pronouncement Hermione smiled and gave Ron a hard hug. Because frankly, kissing Ronald Weasley did about as much for her as kissing a flobberworm would and she was thrilled that she would in no way have to let him down easy. _Dodged a singing hex there, Hermione_.

And so not many days after the battle that Ron, Harry, and Hermione and the rest of the Order found themselves gathered around the kitchen table of Grimmauld Place, toasting their success as though little had changed. And, in the end, very little _had._ Good friends were gathered, the castle was intact thanks to some insanely complicated and nigh incomprehensible protective wards (so _that’s_ what Dumbledore had been researching every time he left the castle during their seventh year), Voldemort’s ashes had been scattered to the four corners of the earth, and the aurors were rapidly rounding up what few remaining Death Eaters that hadn’t been caught in the deluge of Magicae Remotio potion that had flowed through the castle’s keep like so much boiling oil. It seemed strange somehow to celebrate the death of a madman by getting seriously sloshed on the remnants of the Black family wine cellar.

NEWTs would take place in two weeks time -- all that the Ministry was willing to push the all important measure of the seventh years’ skills -- after which the Golden Trio were expected to make their way into the world. Harry had already accepted a position for auror training, assuming that his test scores were high enough. Ron would be helping his brothers open a Hogsmeade branch of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. And Hermione would...would…

Hermione would what?

For the first time in her life, Hermione Granger found herself without an immediate goal to satisfy her need to achieve. She would need to revise for NEWTs, but she knew damned well that after seven years of preparing for her likely death and the possible end of the world as she knew it that she was fairly well prepared for those already. But what to do with her life? With choosing a career? She gnawed on her lip and fiddled with her glass of elf-made port, trying to sort out the direction of her thoughts. She was good at a number of things, but really she was best at being an annoying swot...it seemed unlikely that there was a job out there that would pay her to be studious.

A signal from Dumbledore drew her to the wizened wizard’s side. He’d been deep in conversation with Professors Snape and McGonagall and she was surprised that all three of the venerable instructors seemed to be interested in speaking to her.

“Ah, Miss Granger,” the Headmaster greeted her, cheeks slightly pink with drink and good cheer. “We were just discussing you, or rather your predicament.”

“My predicament, sir?”

“Please, Miss Granger.” This from a sneering Professor Snape. “Much like Mr. Potter, you tend to broadcast your thoughts for the world to see. You’ve been giving the Headmaster -- and me, I might add -- a headache for the last hour. Puts a bit of a damper on the gathering, don’t you think?” He sipped at his own portion of port as she scowled at him.

Professor McGonagall elbowed her colleague in the gut. “Severus, that’s hardly helpful.” The man in question simply rolled his eyes.

“Yes, well.” Dumbledore cleared his throat. “Miss Granger, we -- I was wondering how you would feel about an apprenticeship in the coming year. Now that we are no longer on war footing, the Hogwarts staff has the energy to dedicate to rebuilding its resources. Namely to re-establishing the apprenticeship program and recruiting new blood into our ranks. We all feel that you would be an ideal candidate.”

Hermione was intrigued. “Apprenticeship program, sir? To learn to teach?”

“Yes. In the years before Voldemort’s initial rise to power, Hogwarts had a much larger staff. Each of us is a Master of at least one discipline, and it is a Master’s task to train at least one apprentice toward Journeyman and, eventually, Master status within his or her lifetime. It’s a long process: Two years to Journeyman status and another four to mastery, but it is also a fulfilling one. Hogwarts has not had the resources to train new apprentices in over two decades. Severus was actually one of the last. It’s a rare opportunity; potential apprentices are difficult to find. But we believe you would be well suited to the process, Miss Granger.”

Hermione stood and stared at her three professors, each of whom were smiling benignly in her direction (okay, Snape wasn’t, but a lack of sneer could be understood as the seal of his general approval). “I’m honored, Headmaster. It sounds like a wonderful opportunity. Um...what discipline would I apprentice in, sir?”

Snape spoke up somewhat uncomfortably. “You would apprentice under me for a Mastery in Potions.” He tilted his head when she made no response. “You seem undecided, Miss Granger.”

“Oh. Um, no. I had not thought...that is to say...well, it was hardly my best subject. You told me several times that I lacked the native curiosity necessary in a good brewer, sir.”

Snape looked surprised. “Did I? I confess, I don’t remember making such a comment. Lack of curiosity is hardly a problem I can credit you with, Miss Granger. Perhaps lack of creativity, but that can be trained.”

Dumbledore reached out and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Miss Granger -- Hermione -- Severus has indicated that no student in his career at Hogwarts has shown the potential you have to attain Mastery. And I’m inclined to agree. You have the ability and you have not inconsiderable magical talent. The question is, do you have the desire to become a Potions Master?”

She took a deep breath and thought for a moment, meeting the eyes of each of her professors in turn. Dumbledore patted her shoulder. McGonagall nodded her head encouragingly. Snape simply stared at her, his eyes intense as he waited for her answer. Her mind raced through the pros and cons of the offer: She would learn more about potions, which had always fascinated her. She would be able to research, eventually. Potions Masters were highly employable as they were rare, so she would have no trouble finding work after her apprenticeship. And she’d be learning from one of the best -- if not the best -- Potioneer in the wizarding world. That last almost made the decision a no-brainer.

Almost.

“Before I accept, could I ask what it would entail? And...how I would support myself throughout? I have a small trust fund from my grandparents...would I need to use that?” _Would it be enough_?

“Very sensible questions, of course.” Dumbledore replied. “Unlike Medieval apprenticeships, upon which which I’ll admit our system is modeled, you would be an employee of Hogwarts. Your room and board would, of course, be provided by the school. You would also receive a reasonable stipend each month for your teaching work and for assisting Professor Snape in brewing for Hogwarts. Your other duties would be at the discretion of your Master, but generally they include a great deal of study, brewing for the school, teaching lower-level classes and assisting with upper-level classes, and some light school duties. You would also work individually with the other professors on a limited basis to supplement your knowledge interdisciplinatrily so that you might be a well-rounded witch. This tutelage would also support your work as a Potioneer.”

Snape cleared his throat and broke in. “I would also wish for you to assist me in my personal brewing, Miss Granger. I supply several apothecaries in Britain and Western Europe with some of the rarer and more complex potions as there are few Potions Masters who can brew them. I would, of course, pay you for this work in addition to your stipend from the school. It’s a lucrative business; you’d be quite comfortable as your expenses would be very low; I suspect you'd actually save quite a bit of money unless you're particularly frivolous.”

“And I would return to live at the castle?”

“Yes. You’d be provided with a small suite of rooms and the service of a house-elf. Who I would ask you to not attempt to free, Miss Granger.”

Hermione blushed at her misguided attempts to free the Hogwarts elves during her fourth year. “Honestly, it sounds too good to be true. Very well Professor Snape, Headmaster. I accept. And -- and thank you for extending the offer.” She smiled hesitantly at her Potions Professor, then more broadly at McGonagall and Dumbledore. From fretting to employed in ten minutes flat. It seemed too good to be true.

Dumbledore clapped his hands together. “Excellent, Miss Granger, excellent! I’ll send the contract over immediately. You’re staying here at Grimmauld for the time being, I believe?”

“Yes. Lupin and I 'convinced' my parents to take a world tour; I thought it best that they stay on the move for a few months while we prepared to draw Voldemort into combat, so they’ll be traveling a while longer. The house is closed up and...I don’t really want to live alone right now.”

Dumbledore nodded. “Quite wise, my dear girl. Come and join us at the castle when in July. That will give Severus time to start your Mastery before the next term begins...and to relax after such a hard won year, of course.”

“And for you all to relax too.” Hermione noted with a little smile.

Snape raised an eyebrow. “Indeed.”

“Well, that’s settled then!” Dumbledore exclaimed. “I’m so glad you’ll be joining us, Miss Granger. If you’ll excuse us, there is another to whom we should extend this offer. Minerva?” The headmaster and his deputy disengaged themselves and, with a look, gathered Professor Sprout. _Ah. Neville. Of course._

Hermione remained standing next to her erstwhile Potions Professor -- strike that -- new Potions _Master_ in an awkward silence, sneaking the occasional sideways glance at the taciturn man. Hermione vaguely wondered what she’d gotten herself into. Six years working with Snape, not generally known to be the most congenial of people. _Well, I like nothing better than a challenge._

Snape eventually caught one of her glances. “Yes, Miss Granger?”

“I didn’t say anything, sir.”

A wry and unfamiliar smile twisted his lips. “You didn't have to; your thoughts are loud enough. I think we should add Occlumency to your training schedule, if only so you don’t mentally deafen me in the laboratory.”

Surprised, Hermione turned her head to look at him. “I’d be happy to learn it, sir.”

“Severus.”

“Sir?”

“Call me Severus. We’re going to be working in close proximity for several years, Miss Granger. You may address me by my given name when we are not in the presence of students.”

“Oh. Thank you. Um...if I’m to call you Severus, you should address me as Hermione rather than Miss Granger.”

“Indeed.” He nodded his thanks. He drained his glass and turned to face her more fully. “You should expect a written letter explaining your duties and privileges as my apprentice within a few days. You are permitted to charge your work-related expenses to Hogwarts; your authorization will be included in the letter. I suggest you acquire some new brewing equipment and your apprentice robes. I'll send a list. Until July, Miss -- Hermione.” He gave her a short bow before moving off to refresh his drink.

 

✿ HG/SS ✿

 

“Blimey, Hermione. That’s fantastic. You too, Neville. I can’t remember there ever being apprentices when we were at Hogwarts.” Harry looked unbelievably pleased for his friends.

“The Headmaster said there haven’t been any for over twenty years. Neville and I are relaunching the program” she replied, turning a grin on Neville. The poor man looked poleaxed.

Ron spluttered into his butterbeer. “I can’t believe you’ve agreed to work with _Snape_ . You’ll kill each other before the first term is done! Sprout’s great, Neville. She actually _cares_ about her students. But Snape --”

“ _Professor_ Snape!” Hermione interrupted.

“Whatever,” he muttered.

“Honestly, Ron, if you bothered to speak to him at all tonight you would have noticed that he’s been much more polite lately. Half of his grumping was from the immense amount of stress he was under!”

“And the other half?”

“That’s probably just his nature,” Ginny piped in. “He’s always been, well, kinda taciturn. Even before Voldy-pants returned.”

“I can deal with it. Honestly, I would gladly deal with a lot more for the opportunity to apprentice under him.”

“But _six years_ !” Ron said. “You’re going to be working with him almost every day for _six whole years_!”

“Six years where I’ll be paid for my efforts and receive free room and board. Six years after which I will be able to choose my own job. Six years during which I can begin doing research, where I’ll receive advanced training across most of the other disciplines, and where I can teach! Ron, this is a huge opportunity for both of us!” she said gesturing toward Neville.

“Gran’s gonna be thrilled,” Neville murmured, ignoring Ron’s spluttering. “We didn’t know where I should apply for work. I didn’t really fancy being an auror -- not that you won’t be brilliant at it, Harry. Kingsley’ll do right by you. But...that’s not for me. I’m not brave like you.”

Harry laughed. “Oh, please! You don’t read enough of your own press, Snake Slayer Longbottom.”

Neville blushed furiously and grumbled under his breath. “I didn’t ask for the nickname.”

Hermione privately thought that Neville should be grateful for his nickname. She was known alternately as Harry Potter’s love interest (untrue) or his dorky hanger-on. Not that she wanted to deal with the kind of fame that Harry had to contend with, but if the press ( _read: Rita Skeeter_ ) was going to mention her could they at least do so as more than an appendage of The Boy Who Vanquished the Dark Lord?

Ginny interrupted Hermione’s thoughts. “Hey, Mione. What’re you plans for tomorrow?”

“Sleeping and revising for NEWTs, I guess. Why?”

“Well, the Victory Ball is next week, and we’re going to need dress robes. I thought we might go look together?”

Hermione brightened considerably. “That sounds good, actually. I could use some fun time. Why don’t we make a day of it? Grab lunch, then maybe hit Flourish and Blotts? I want to beef up my potions library.”

Harry and Ron shot each other a look; Hermione was nothing if not predictable.

“Actually, would you make room for another in your ‘girls’ day? I need new dress robes and should probably add to my own library as well.” Neville looked a bit embarrassed to be asking, but it was true that he needed new robes. He must have grown a foot since the Yule ball three years ago.

“Oh, Neville! We’d love it if you’d come!” Ginny gushed. “I’m so excited about the ball. With the war and Sirius dying and being in constant fear for our lives...there’s been so little to celebrate. I’m glad Scrimgour decided that the Ministry needed some good PR.”

Hermione and Neville nodded their agreement while Harry and Ron simply looked uncomfortable at the thought of wearing dress robes again. And having to dance.

“Are you taking anyone, Mione?” asked Neville.

“No, I’m going solo. Rita Skeeter keeps trying to pair me with either Harry or Ron. If she’s going to write about me, I want it to be as an independent young witch, not the attaché of some bloke from school.” She shrugged her shoulders.

Harry shot Ron a look, but he only shook his head in a ‘I’ll explain later’ kind of way.

“Good for you!” Ginny said. “I’m going solo too.”

“Oi!” said Harry, clearly offended. “What about me?”

Ginny batted her eyelashes at The Boy Who Forgot to Ask His Girlfriend to the Ball. “Oh, were you planning to attend?”

“You know that I -- dammit, Ginny!” Harry muttered something under his breath before rolling his eyes and pointedly asking. “Would you like to go to the ball as my date?”

“Oh, Harry! What a surprise! Of _course_ I’d like to go to the ball with you. Off-white corsage, please, and no baby’s breath.” She smiled at him before sending Hermione a surreptitious wink.

Hermione just laughed, happy to see her friends able to banter and joke after so many months of tension and terror. “Well, now that _that_ sticky matter is settled, I’m going to bed. It’s been a long day and I’ve likely had too much to drink. I’ll see you guys in the morning.” Hermione rose from the kitchen table as everyone else started to say their goodnights.  

She smiled as she trekked up the stairs, only slightly unsteady from too much wine. She was alive, she would soon be gainfully employed and training for a promising future, and there was the very real potential for a pretty dress in her future. She hadn’t felt this optimistic about the future in ages.


	2. Second Class

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione attends the Victory ball with mixed feelings, but in the company of her friends.

Neville glanced at Hermione and Ginny modeling various gowns in the mirror as he was fitted for his new dress robes. The aptly named and, he thought, inappropriately timed Victory Ball would take place in eight days, and Madame Malkins' had been crowded with the press of witches and wizards trying to put their best foot forward for the event. The three had managed to snag a private room and two staff members to attend their needs, so the process was going fairly smoothly. He knew that most of the men of his acquaintance would rather spend an hour in  _ levicorpus _ and force fed slugs than watch women try on clothing, but he found shopping with the girls to be entertaining; their commentary was occasionally hilarious and they didn’t dither about with their decision making. He admitted that he didn’t know much about cut or line, but they still seemed to value his opinion as they showed him the gowns that the seamstress’ assistant kept summoning into the room. They’d both opted for gowns over formal robes, neither wishing to shroud their figures with swaths of heavy material.

Flicking his eyes from Hermione, whose atrocious mauve gown had received a grimace, he sent a smile to his other shopping partner. “That one, Ginny. The color does wonderful things for your eyes.” 

“Neville my love, I do believe you’re right.” She turned to the assistant with a smile. “This is definitely the one, but it will need to be fitted. The straps are too long and the top needs tailoring. Can you help with that?” 

The woman nodded and motioned toward the other platform and triple mirror in the room, gathering a set of pins and setting a tape measure to begin recording the girl’s measurements. 

The gown, a beautiful, shimmering sapphire blue, did wonderful things for Ginny’s eyes, making them look bolder and deeper. The sweetheart neckline enhanced her admittedly meager bosom while the halter made the most of her athletic arms and creamy skin. Even better, the charmed dress had a mermaid skirt that somehow allowed her legs to move freely while still hugging her tightly down to the knee. With an approving nod, Ginny recognized that this dress would leave Harry in no doubt that his girlfriend was a woman to desire, not just a girl to love.

Neville turned to see Hermione emerge from her dressing room just as the tailor finished pinning the cuffs of his close-fitting trousers. She looked to him with a smile on her face, clearly pleased with the gown she wore. It was the color of fresh apricots and made the most of her pale complexion. The material was gauzy and soft, draping from the waist in multiple layers that became more and more sheer as the skirt approached her ankles and the gown’s neckline came up high and tied behind her neck like a scarf. It left her shoulders and collarbones bare and when she spun to show to show Ginny he saw that there was almost no back to the gown -- only the trails of the charmed chiffon floating down to follow her spine.

Ginny breathed a little sigh. “Hermione, if you don’t buy that I’ll personally hex you into oblivion. It’s stunning.”

Hermione’s smile broadened before drooping slightly. “It covers the scar from Dolohov, but…” she gestured toward her left arm with her hand.

“Leave it.” Neville said firmly. “It’s a battle scar, Hermione, and nothing to be ashamed of. I know you’re proud of being Muggleborn, and we’re proud that you are our friend. You’re a hero who fought to save those like yourself. Well, all of us really. That scar is a reminder of your strength, and of what you’ve saved our world from” 

Hermione blinked rapidly to clear the moisture that had gathered in her eyes. “You’re right, Neville. Absolutely.” She gave him a quick peck on the cheek before returning to her changing room to remove the gown and put her robes back on. Neville caught Ginny’s eye in the mirror and saw her approving nod.

✿ HG/SS ✿

Hermione was still flushed with good humor when they flooed back to Grimmauld Place. They’d eaten in Diagon Alley, happy that they’d not asked Harry to accompany them so that they could remain largely anonymous as they dined, then spent a happy two hours (well, happy for Neville and Hermione...Ginny was thoroughly bored) in Flourish and Blotts. She had a pile of new books: several new herbology text, a new text on charms, and piles of new potions books. Her bank account was smarting, but she thought it well worth it. Even better, she’d secured a subscription to both  _ The British Journal of Practical Brewing _ and  _ The Journal of Alchemical Authority  _ \-- the premier English-language scholarly publications on all things potions. With a contented sigh, she dumped her purchases on her bed and hugged her happiness to her; she couldn’t be more thrilled with the sudden change in direction her life had taken.

A thick envelope and paper-wrapped package on her dresser caught her eye as she turned to head back downstairs. She recognized the maroon Hogwarts seal next to what she assumed would be Snape’s sigil -- a falcon in three-quarter profile with wings spread over an empty potions vial with STS carved into its side, stamped in black wax. She broke both seals with excitement and sat in the small armchair in her room to peruse its contents.

The first page of the letter was her contract, which detailed the length of her appointment (2 years with an option for renewal once Journeyman status was reached) and the details of her pay (100 gallons a month was surprisingly generous as she would be receiving food and board as well). She wouldn’t be making her fortune from her apprenticeship, but she would still be able a moderate lifestyle while still saving some money for post-Mastery. Unlike a student, she would receive private accommodations in the castle, the service of a house-elf (she grimaced at that),  and the ability to leave the castle in her free hours. She found these terms more than fair, so signed the contract with a flourish and set it aside to owl back to Dumbledore.

The second page was also a contract, this one with Snape alone for her brewing services to his company, B.B. Brewing Co. She wondered briefly at what the B.B. stood for before her eyebrows rose at the terms he proposed. For her work as an assistant brewer, she would receive a 1% share of net profits for each month. She wasn’t sure what net profits for the company might be, but she suspected it might well be fairly lucrative. Snape had indicated that he brewed rare potions, which were extremely costly at any apothecary. He also dressed very well; his robes and boots were clearly hand made and there was no possible way for him to afford such luxuries on a teacher’s pay. Even better, he’d offered her a one-year renewable contract, which afforded her the opportunity to renegotiate if she thought his terms unfair. With a nod to herself, she signed and stacked the contract on the first.

The third page included a letter from Snape himself, written in his unmistakable hand.

> _ Dear Miss Granger, _
> 
> _ Allow me to confer my congratulations on your acceptance of the position as Hogwarts Potions Apprentice _ .  _ I look forward to extending your knowledge of our craft over the coming years and to your assistance in the classroom and laboratory. _
> 
> _ Enclosed you will find your contracts, a list of required and recommended equipment, authorization for material and apprentice robe expenditures, and details of your accommodations when you return to Hogwarts.  I have also spoken to Headmaster Dumbledore and he will arrange for you to have a private laboratory adjacent to my own, so that you might have a separate space for your research and brewing. _
> 
> _ As I have no doubt you will be impatient to begin learning about your new specialization, I have included two tomes that serve as references throughout your time as my apprentice. You are expected by noon on July 1, by which time I expect you to be somewhat familiar with their contents. Your House Elf is Zandi; she will arrive that morning to gather your personal items for transport to your new quarters. You are expected at Madame Malkins shop within the next week to be fitted for your apprentice robes.  _
> 
> _ I will be traveling throughout June to gather potions ingredients for the coming term, but would like to meet with you before I depart to discuss further expectations for our work together. I expect you at Hogwarts for tea at 4 o’clock on May 25 for this meeting.  _
> 
> _ As ever, _
> 
> _ S. Snape, Potions Master _
> 
> _ Head of Slytherin House _
> 
> _ Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry _

Hermione was surprised at the cordial tone of his letter, though she noted he’d reverted to a more formal salutation; she’d half expected a series of terse orders and begrudging acceptance of her new position. She smirked a bit at the terse tone of the missive...he’d all but ordered her to arrive for tea in two weeks time. She mentally shrugged; the war may be over, but she didn’t expect Snape to entirely reform his personality.

The next three pages contained a list of specific brewing ingredients and tools for her personal lab, a suggested list of items for personal research, a list of other “apprentice” supplies such as notebooks and quills, a list of books for required reading (which included several that she’d already purchased), and a separate list of recommended reading. She had her work cut out for her, gathering this in the coming weeks. All in all, she felt like the scholarly version of Cinderella.

The final four pages were purchase authorizations: one each for Madame Malkins, Flourish and Blotts, and Slug and Jiggers Apothecaries bearing the Hogwarts seal. The final authorization was a blanket purchase authorization in her name bearing Snape’s seal. She looked at that one curiously, making a mental note to ask him about it when she saw him on the 25th. 

Finally, she unwrapped the package to find a box containing two books:  _ Potions A-Z, 37th ed _ , which seemed to be an encyclopedic of all known potions cross referenced with an ingredients appendix, and  _ The Brewer’s Compendium  _ a resource on techniques and potion theory for the advanced potions student. Nodding her head in approval, she set these aside. Within the box also lay another, smaller box. Within it lay a blank ring-seal in white-gold and a note, again in Snape’s assertive scrawl. “It is traditional for the Master to gift the Apprentice their first seal. Right swish, upward flick. The spell is  _ Sculperesone _ .” Intrigued, she pointed her wand at the ring and performed the spell. She watched as the ring shuddered and reformed, the blank metal carving itself into a personal seal ring. The ring band narrowed to suit her hand and lovely vinework appeared on the shank, mimicking the vinewood of her wand. The vines extended over the blank oval, twining around its edges. In the center of the oval a sleeping dwarf leopard appeared, its tail curled around the initials HJG and its paws folded over a scroll -- the wizarding sign of the apprentice -- and her Master's initials carved into its tiny seal. The cool circlet automatically sized when she placed it on her right hand. 

With a smile, she summoned parchment to pen thank you notes to enclose with her contracts. She dashed off a formal note to Dumbledore, thanking him for the opportunity and expressing a desire to do the Hogwarts name proud. The second letter took a bit more time as she knew that this would be the first step to establishing her relationship with her Master. Nibbling her quill, she thought before dipping the nib into her inkwell.

> _ Dear Master Snape, _
> 
> _ I would like to express my appreciation for extending the opportunity to study as your apprentice. While I know the offer to begin this process came through the Headmaster as representative of Hogwarts, I believe that you would not have agreed to supervise me for a further six years had you not thought I had the potential to succeed under your tutelage. You unspoken confidence means a great deal. _
> 
> _ I also wanted to thank you for your present. While I know that it serves as a functional gift, it is also a lovely one that I will be proud to wear. It was a particularly beautiful bit of magic to witness. _
> 
> _ I look forward to seeing you for tea on the 25th of May and to our future work together.  _
> 
> _ Sincerely, _
> 
> _ Hermione J. Granger _

She selected a dark plum-colored wax, deliberately avoiding the color of her house in an act of symbolism that she thought would not escape either Dumbledore or Snape. The time for personal house loyalty was past; she was an apprentice and representative of the school as a whole now. She sealed both letters with her new ring, then went downstairs to borrow Hedwig. 

✿ HG/SS ✿

“Ginny, what on  _ earth _ is taking you two so long?” Ron whinged from outside Hermione’s bedroom door. “The portkey leaves in ten minutes!”

“Shut it, Ron! We’d be done already if you weren’t shouting at us through the bloody door!” Ginny shouted over her shoulder before turning back to Hermione’s hair. “Honestly, I love my brother but he can be the most  _ amazing _ prat.”

Hermione winced as Ginny aggressively tugged another curl back into the elaborate coiffure she was styling. “Are you nearly done back there?”

“Just about. Where’d the -- ah.” She grabbed at the gold and citrine bandeau before carefully placing it on her head, avoiding the curls that she’d left to float around Hermione’s face. With a quick charm, she fixed the entire thing in place so that even vigorous dancing wouldn’t disturb her masterpiece. “Okay, you can look now.”

Hermione grinned when she looked the mirror. “Ginny, you’re a genius. Thank you!” She hugged her friend to her side and looked at the two of them in the mirror. Ginny’s was stunning, willow-slim in her tight, jewel-toned gown, her titian tresses spelled to fall in waves over her shoulders. She had charmed her face to perfection with smokey eyes and ruby lips. Hermione stood in contrast, her gown flowy rather than structured, embracing her curves and showcasing her waist. The apricot color brought roses into her cheeks and she’d kept her makeup (applied the muggle way) subtle with peach lips and coppery eyeshadow. Ginny had styled her hair in a loose braid that trailed over one shoulder to leave her back bare. 

Ginny grinned back at their reflections. “Hermione? Let’s go knock ‘em dead.” They gathered light cloaks and made their way down the stairs in a cloud of scent and happy emotions, only to be greeted by Ron, Neville, Harry, and Draco Malfoy in their dress robes. 

Draco had been a last minute addition to their party -- an attempt for Harry to show support for the Malfoy family in the face of public outrage at their Ministry pardon. For once, it was not Lucius Malfoy’s money and political power that freed the family, but Draco service as a spy amongst the student Death Eaters throughout the war. Lucius, whose service to Voldemort was largely coerced since his resurrection, had resigned all political posts and publicly vowed to dedicate his wealth and his service to altruistic acts.

Draco and Harry turned bright red as the ladies joined the group in the library. “Ginny, you look...I don’t have words,” Harry said, rushing to her side. Hermione heard him whisper, “I’m so lucky you’re mine” in the young witch’s ear as he fastened a corsage -- off-white, no baby’s breath -- to her left wrist. He must have been feeling particularly gallant as he pressed a kiss to her hand before releasing it. 

Draco turned to Hermione and gave her a short bow. “Granger. You clean up well.” His pale skin flushed further as he cleared his throat.

She gave an impolite snort. “As do you, Draco. I’m glad you’re attending with us this evening.” She shoved an elbow into Harry’s side; he’d been staring at Ginny’s decolletage. She gestured toward a replica of the Globe Theatre sitting across the room. “Are we all ready to go?” 

They gingerly gathered ‘round the souvenir item, each struggling to place a finger on it without crushing their finery. Within moments if glowed blue and they each felt the familiar hook around their navel. The ball was about to begin.

✿ HG/SS ✿

They arrived not at the Ministry, as Hermione expected, but in a field of wildflowers. “Where on earth?” 

Draco gently took her by the shoulders and turned her to look behind her. Behind her stood a golden marquee, backlit by the setting sun. 

“Scrimgour wanted to mark the victory in a scenic location rather than political one, Granger. Though this ball is, of course, a political gesture.” Draco smirked at her as the group trooped toward the fabric-draped entrance.

Once they were inside, they saw that the marquee had been magically enlarged to house a marble stair leading down to a ballroom. Cameras flashed as they passed the press-corps, who had been cordoned off to the side but for a select few allowed to roam the ball. As they descended a staircase, a Ministry official paused to announce their entrance. They were some of the last to arrive and were quickly escorted to a table near a raised dais. The early summer sun shone pink and orange through windows at the sides of the hall as it set over the hills, and golden suspended candles provided elegant lighting as the room began to dim. White flowers graced each table in crystal vases, but a single black rose sat in the center of each bouquet. The hall was all opulence and elegance. Hermione glanced at Neville and gave him a slight smile of commiseration; she knew he felt that it was too little, too late for a Ministry that had proved so ineffectual against Voldemort’s megalomania, but he was putting a brave face on it.

Hermione saw Dumbledore and the rest of the Order seated at the next table and saw that they too were struggling to make conversation through their mixed feelings. Ron leaned toward Neville and whispered “do you feel like we’re seated at the kid’s table?” He snickered before looking thoroughly abashed to be laughing at such an affair.

As tea and after-dinner cordials were passed around by the elven waitstaff, Minister Scrimgour mounted the dais and addressed the gathered heroes and dignitaries. “My friends, welcome. We come tonight to celebrate a Victory of the Dark Lord Voldemort. We gather to thank and to mourn those who sacrificed so much for our world and our way of life. I am not a speechmaker, I am a man of action. And so I and my Ministry have chosen to take action thusly.

Will the following individuals please rise: Filius Flitwick. Hermione Granger. Neville Longbottom. Luna Lovegood. Remus Lupin. Draco Malfoy. Minerva McGonagall. Alastor Moody. Kingsley Shacklebolt. Severus Snape. Pomona Sprout. Nymphadora Tonks. Arthur Weasley. Ginerva Weasley. Molly Weasley. Ronald Weasley.” He waited as each person rose. Hermione was surprised to see that Snape had attended the ball at all; he hardly looked thrilled to be present. “On behalf of the Ministry of Magic, it is with grateful thanks that I award each of you The Order of Merlin, Second Class.” 

The Minister cut his wand through the air, causing a small box and a scroll to appear before each recipient. “Without your service, the war would have been lost.” He bowed his head and gestured for them to be seated before proceeding.

“Would Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter please rise.” As they did so the Minister stepped off the dais and approached their table, handing him a scroll and a small box. “I award you, Harry Potter, with The Order of Merlin, First Class.” He then proceeded to Dumbledore and extended the same honor, with the Ministry’s grateful thanks.

As the crowd began to clap, Scrimgour remounted the dais and held up his hands for silence. “This is not a time for speeches, my friends. This is a time for gratitude. I ask that we now bow our heads in thanks for the service of these heroes.” The entirety of the ballroom bowed their heads in silence until Scrimgour’s voice rose again. “It is, however, also a time for celebration. I invite you all to join me and to join our heroes on the dance floor.” At his nod, the orchestra orchestra disillusioned itself on the dais and the opening strains of a dance began.

Harry knew his cue and stood, offering his hand to Ginny. She accepted and they walked to the center of the room to begin the complex wizarding dance that Hermione had barely grasped in her fourth year. Moments later they were joined by Dumbledore and Minerva. Arthur and Molly, Remus and Tonks, and Flitwick and Sprout followed shortly thereafter. Draco and Luna rose to dance at the outskirts of the dance floor followed by -- to everyone’s surprise -- Ron and Neville?  _ How long had that been going on? _   With a sense of panic, Hermione realized that she was the only person left at her table. 

Suddenly a hand  with long, tapered fingers was extended before her as a deep and familiar voice asked, “Miss Granger? May I?” Gratefully she grasped the proffered hand and rose to join Snape on the dance floor. 

They danced silently, keeping near the dais and allowing others to take the more public place of pride at the center of the room. She saw Draco, Luna, Neville and Ron had elected to do the same and shot a smile toward them -- Neville wasn’t particularly keen on the spotlight and Ron had long ago learned that being Harry Potter’s best friend meant living in the shadow of The Boy Who Lived. He had made his peace with it.

She smiled at her partner and attempted to make polite conversation. “Thank you for offering to dance with me, sir.”

“Severus. And it’s hardly a chore, Hermione, though the rest of this infernal evening may be.” He gave her a tight smile.

“Well, you look quite dashing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear something other than black.” She glanced down at his grey brocade waistcoat and emerald cravat pin.

He shrugged and spun her slightly to avoid colliding with Ron. “The war is over. It was time for a change.” 

She smiled again, but didn’t reply.  _ Black to grey. Not much of a change. _

He must have heard her thoughts because he smirked. “Albeit, slow change.” 

Suddenly, Hermione heard a loud bang and was pushed to the ground. Her eyes widened as an explosion of darkness assaulted her senses and she was blown back into the hard edge of the stage, knocking the wind out of her lungs. Flashes of light began to shoot through the darkness as the crowd began to scream. As the darkness lifted, Hermione saw that Draco, Luna, Ron, and Neville were clamoring to their feet with wands drawn and found that she and Snape had done the same. At the center of the hall stood at least twenty fugitive death eaters surrounded by the stunned bodies of the heroes of Voldemort’s fall.  



	3. Blasted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Battle of the Ball rages on.

There were times when being a founding member of Dumbledore’s Army was very handy. Hermione’s training kicked in immediately and her wand hand began casting before her brain had fully registered the scene in front of her. Six Death Eaters were immediately disarmed and bound thanks to the quick actions of the only six Order members who were not unconscious on the floor or their dinner table. The others had already begun dodging curses and dispersing through the ballroom, focusing their attentions on the Order and the Minister of Magic as the gathered dignitaries scrambled for the door.

Without pausing to think, Hermione raced toward the nearest masked menace and struck out with a slowing hex from the side. She was able to quickly subdue and bind him.  _ Seven down. How many left _ ? Severus’ shout of  _ detegos  _ rang through the hall, dissolving Death Eaters’ masks and dropping their hoods to reveal their identities. Hermione spotted Yaxley, Rowle, and Crabbe moving as a unit toward the dais, their wands trained on Scrimgeour. 

Neville and Ron had apparently seen the same; Ron was attacking Rowle while Neville took on Crabbe. Luna and Draco were cornered, dueling four wands with their two. A glance to her left showed Snape striking out at a cluster of Death Eaters and taking them out with a single spell that she didn’t recognize before jumping into the fray and chasing after others that were chasing the ball’s attendees. He didn’t glance back as his hex crumpled the attackers to the floor like marionettes with cut strings. With a cry, she rushed toward Yaxley, deflecting the green streak of light that was aimed at Scrimgeour (whom she prayed had managed to draw his wand). Yaxley redirected his attentions to her as she began to duel him in earnest.

He was formidable. Even dueling Dolohov two years previously hadn’t been this difficult and she didn’t have the protection of the castle as she had during the battle at Hogwarts just two weeks prior. She was lucky that his  _ Avada _ hadn’t landed; he wouldn’t have the energy to recast it for a few minutes, which gave her time to bring him down before he could do more damage. They fired basic stinging hexes at each other, each attempting to get a bead on the other between the fleeing bodies. She couldn’t dodge effectively in her ballgown and was forced to maintain a shield to neutralize his slicing hex. It didn’t quite work and her lovely gown acquired an unplanned slit in the skirt, but Hermione barely registered it as she fired back. She fired a slipping hex, a jibberish jinx, and a  _ confundus _ in rapid succession, managing to hit with the the latter two. Yaxley’s next curse came out as gobbledygook and lacked focus, though the intent behind it was still strong enough to cause a mild cramping on her abdomen as it struck home. Resisting the urge to curl in on herself, Hermione dropped to the ground and managed to hit Yaxley with an  _ expelliarmus _ . It stuck his leg, tripping the man and forcing him to lose his grip on his wand. He struck out at her wandlessly, but the spell was weakened by both the  _ confundus _ and his unplanned meeting with the dancefloor. Hermione stunned and bound him before he could attack again, whirling her attention toward the dais and the other Order members.

Neville was battling both Crabbe and Rowle; she couldn’t see Ron anywhere and hoped he was still standing and unharmed. Neville cast a shield between Rowle and Scrimgeour, who was wandless and struggling against vines that were attempting to immobilize him. Neville finally succeeded in disarming Rowle just as Crabbe began to shot “Avada --”. Without thought, Hermione leapt at the man, knocking him to the ground and forcing his spell to fire wide, incomplete. Drawing back her left hand, she punched it into the man’s face and broke his nose, then bound him and snatched his wand from his hand before petrifying him. 

Neville’s shout of “Hermione, behind!” caught her attention and she whirled to see two more Death Eater (whom she did not recognize) bearing down on her. She managed to impede one of them, but the other managed to land a slicing heck, opening a gash from her left collarbone and down to her bicep. Hissing at the pain she struck out with her wand and blasted the man off his feet and literally glued him to the floor before snatching his wand. Neville caught up to her and stunned the man, rendering him unconscious.  In tandem, they turned back-to-back to prepare for any further attackers. They saw only the bodies of their friends, the bound Death Eaters, and a few attendees on the floor. 

“Ron!” shouted Neville, rushing to the side of the room where a tuft of red hair shone. He began to work at reversing the jinx that bound the boy. 

Hermione rushed toward the Minister and cleared the vines that trapped him to the floor. “Are you alright, sir?”

“I’m fine, Miss Granger. Thank you. Please, go help your friends,” the lion-maned man replied. “I can take care of the people up here.” He turned away from her to aim his wand at Mad-Eye and Kingsley.

Hermione spotted Snape striding back into the hall from the foyer. He had a scrape on his temple, but seemed to be otherwise unharmed. His eye caught hers and he nodded his head in approval before turning his wand on the nearest collapsed victor. She saw Draco and Luna -- both unscathed -- moving from her right to do the same, so approached the left-side of the dance floor and began  _ ennervating  _ the stunned victors. She reached Professors Flitwick and Sprout first and managed to wake them both before the fire in her arm began to register. Her vision began to tunnel as the blood loss and extensive magic use took its toll. 

She didn’t feel herself hit floor.

✿ HG/SS ✿

The scent of cedar and clove assaulted her senses when Hermione came to. A low voice rumbled against her head. “All the way out, Hermione. There’s a girl.” Her eyes fluttered open to reveal Snape leaning over her, his hair dangling in her face. She tried to sit up, only see the room give a sickening spin. Gentle hands lowered her back to the floor. “Give it a minute, Granger. You hit your head pretty hard.” As he spoke, said head began to ache.

“Ouch,” she whispered.

Snape smirked before tapping his wand against her head and whispering a diagnostic charm. “No concussion, but you’re going to have a big bruise tomorrow. There’s already a knot forming.”  She winced as he pressed cold fingers to her head, rubbing the spot gently to relieve some of the pressure. “You think you can sit up now?” 

She nodded and gingerly sat up, surreptitiously checking herself for damage as she did so. The pink line along her left arm indicated that her other wound had already healed, though the dress was probably a loss. Red stains seeped through the material from the collarbone down to the waist. 

“How do you feel?” Snape asked, his voice uncharacteristically concerned.

She swallowed and tasted metal. “Light-headed. A little nauseous.” 

“That’s blood loss. They’re not letting the mediwitches in until the aurors have cleared the scene, but as soon as we can we’ll get a potion into you for that. I don’t think you’ll need St. Mungo’s, but you might want to visit Madam Pomfrey tomorrow and have her treat that gash to prevent scarring. 

Hermione pressed the heel of her palm to her head. “The others? Was anyone hurt?”

Snape’s voice was calm, despite the undertone of anger beneath. “Most of the Order is bruised from being underfoot while unconscious. Minerva has a broken ankle and Kingsley a broken leg to match his arm. Draco fractured his wrist. Mr. Weasley has a concussion and several broken ribs; Mr. Longbottom has already apparated with him to St. Mungo’s. Dawlish is dead. So is the Undersecretary for Education. We don’t know about those that managed to apparate out yet.”

She closed her eyes in relief. Her friends were safe. “And the Death Eaters?”

“Captured or dead. All of them. You did well.” She heard his approval and opened her eyes to see confirmation of that pride in his eyes. She couldn’t help a little smile in response. “Come on, let’s get you on your feet.” He placed a hand under her elbow and took her hand, helping her rise from her prone position. She wobbled a moment before the world steadied beneath her.

Looking around the room she could see the other Order members struggling to do the same. Draco was helping to heal Minerva’s ankle while Mad-Eye saw to Kingsley. It was a strange scene to behold. She turned back to her professor. “Thank you for healing my cut. It feels much better.” 

He waved off her thanks as unnecessary. “Come on, Scrimgeour is signalling you.” He placed a hand on the small of her back and helped her over to the dais where Scrimgeour was leaning. The Minister was staring at the lifeless body of Dawlish just a few feet away, which had been covered with a tablecloth. Draco and Luna joined a moment later.

“Mr. Malfoy, Miss Lovegood, Miss Granger, and Professor Snape,” he said, nodding to each of them in turn. “You have my personal thanks for your quick thinking this evening. Injuries and loss of life would have been much higher had you not taken action when you did.”

It was Snape who replied. “How did they get in, Minister? There were anti-apparition wards cast over the entire field.”

“We don’t know yet.” The look on the Minister’s face was thunderous. “We’ll be looking into that first thing. Now, are any of you seriously injured?”

It was Draco who answered. “No, sir. We’ve all become rather adept at healing spells over the years. We can take care of ourselves.”

“So it would seem. I know it’s a lot to ask at the moment, but we’d like for you all to return to a secure location for the night so that the Aurors can question you in one location. Mr. Potter’s house is still secret kept, is it not?”

“It is.” Hermione said.

“Then can I ask you all to return there for the night? I’ll send Moody and Robards to you as soon as I can, but you should all fix yourselves up in the meantime. You should be able to apparate since the wards are down.”

They nodded their assent and gathered their belongings. Hermione picked up the velvet box containing her Order of Merlin and the found the accompanying scroll. The scroll and box had both been trampled in the melee, but the medal itself was unharmed. She couldn’t help but think that there was symbolism in that, though for the life of her she didn’t know what it was.

The four of them stood together, bedraggled and weary, as they apparated back to Grimmauld Place. 

  
✿ HG/SS ✿  
  


As soon as her feet touched down in the foyer of the house, she called for Kreacher. 

“The Granger has a request?” asked the grouchy elf.

“Yes, Kreacher. Draco, Luna, and Sn -- Severus will likely be staying the night. Can you prepare rooms for them, please?”

The elf seemed to take note of the blood on her dress, the scrapes on Draco, and the general air of fatigue in the entire group and scampered off to do her bidding without his usual complaints. Hermione turned back toward the group.

“Make yourselves comfortable. I need to take a shower and wash some of the blood off.”

Snape stopped her with a hand on her arm. “You should probably wait for that. The aurors may want to see your wounds or cast a diagnostic charm on any one of us. We should remain as we are for the time being.”

Recognizing the sense in what Snape said, Hermione nodded in resignation. “Then let us adjourn to the library. There’s firewhiskey, brandy, and port in the corner for anyone who doesn’t have a splitting headache.” She quickly an impervious charm on the sofa and sank into its soft cushions, pillowing her head on the armrest.

She heard heavy footfalls move toward the bar cart and the splash of liquid on glass as she rested her eyes. She jolted as a cold glass pressed against her arm, then glanced up to see that Snape was handing her a glass of water, a blood replenisher, a pain potion, and a headache potion. She smiled her silent thanks at the man as she took the potions from him. He passed pain potions to Luna and Draco before sitting beside her with his own potion and a glass of whiskey. Draco raised his potion in a silent toast before swallowing it down, rising to pour his own glass of port to chase the taste away. 

“Not quite how I anticipated spending my evening” the boy muttered.

Snape sneered at his godson. “Indeed.”

Hermione huffed out a small laugh, then watched with interest as Draco’s hand snuck into Luna’s on the loveseat they were sharing.  _ Well that’s a new development. Is everyone hooking up this week? _

They sat largely in silence, each sipping at a beverage as they took stock of their wounds.

“I wonder how many more are out there?” Hermione murmured.

Snape rubbed at the bridge of his nose as he replied. “Yaxley, Rolfe, and Crabbe were the last remaining fugitives from the inner circle. I don’t know how many others there are. There was never an exact count on the lower ranks and sympathizers.”

“Greg Goyle was there tonight. I killed him.” Draco had a closed look on his face. For all of his Malfoyish posturing and pretense, it had hurt to harm his former friend. “I saw Hestia Carrow and Marcus flint there too. I don’t know if they made it.”

“I captured them both,” Snape replied. “And both were mostly unharmed.”

The room lapsed into silence again, only to be broke by the sounds of apparition from the foyer. No one rose to greet the newcomers, understanding that they would find them all eventually. 

“Hey you lot. Scrimgeour send you back too?” Harry asked as he entered the room, his tie missing from beneath the collar of his dress robes.

Hermione looked at her best friend with a little smile. “Yes. I’ve asked Kreacher to prepare rooms. I suspect we’ll all need to sleep after this. Where’s Ginny?”

“The Burrow. Molly wanted her close tonight.” The Boy Who Lived crossed the room to pour himself a drink as well. “Well, here’s to victory...short lived as it might have been.” He tossed back the whiskey and set the glass down with a clink before sinking into one of the chairs by the fire. “Where’s Ron?”

“Hospital. Neville’s with him.”

Draco looked up. “Speaking of, when did that happen? Neville and Ron?”

“Dunno,” Harry shrugged. “I didn’t even know he fancied blokes.”

Luna snickered into her glass. “You haven’t been paying much attention, then.”

Hermione didn’t want to admit that she’d been clueless too, so she let that comment slide. She had been paying attention, but perhaps she had only seen what she had wanted to see. Or thought she wanted to see. And this line of thought was definitely not helping her headache. When she spoke, she addressed it to Draco. “I don’t think anything has actually happened there yet. And it’s his business anyway.”

Draco snorted. “Not once Rita Skeeter gets ahold of the information.”

“I suspect even Rita Skeeter will have other things to write about tomorrow.”

 

✿ HG/SS ✿

 

Once the aurors had come and gone, they all headed to their rooms. Draco and Luna secured rooms on the second floor. Hermione had noticed the two blondes circling one another for months. She hoped that, now Draco’s work for the Order was in the open, one of them might finally make a declaration of feelings. The Victory Ball had seemed a start to that, but now she didn’t know.

Her room was on the third floor. She’d chosen it because it gave her some much needed privacy from Ron and Harry. The third floor rooms were really only used when the house was full, so it was the room across from hers that would house the Potions Master for the night. It was the room he’d traditionally kept during the extensive meetings over the past three years, so at least he had a change of clothing and some toiletries for his use. 

“You know where the spare toothbrushes are, but let me know if you need anything else. I’m going to use the bath and retire for the night. I’m exhausted...and my dress has gone all stiff.”

He glanced at the bodice of her dress, now rigid with dried blood. “A good plan. I’ll leave you to it. Good night, Miss Granger.”

Hermione nodded her good night, not bothering to correct his failure to use her name. He seemed to be easing into it anyway. She gathered her bath things and robe, heading down the hall toward one of the two baths on her floor. She’s helped Harry to update it slightly over the last summer, though he’d need to overhaul the entire house eventually. It was a bloody mausoleum as it was. For now she was just grateful for a clean room with plentiful hot water and a tub that didn’t leak.

She ran the bath while and wandlessly lit the sconces on either side of the room, foregoing the charmed overhead light for more relaxing candles. She eased herself into the steaming water of her bath gingerly, feeling every muscle twinge from her time at the ball. Her feet hurt from the heeled shoes and her back, shoulder, and arms hurt from the constant tension of holding her wand at the ready. The healing slice on her collarbone burned as it made contact with the steaming bath. She sighed as her muscles started to relax, one by one, and ducked under the water to cleanse the blood from the ends of her hair. The water was pink tinged when she looked down again, so she pulled the plug and ran a new one.

As the tub filled a second time, she couldn’t help wondering if every good memory she made would be tainted by the presence of darkness in time. She stared at the ruined gown where she’d dropped it on the floor; it sat there, a puddle of fabric that symbolized a return to the pleasures of youth, marred by her willingness to literally bleed for what was right. With a disappointed sigh at the maudlin direction of her thoughts, she resolutely pushed them aside and ran some of her coveted almond bath gel under the tap. She allowed herself a little sigh of pleasure as the small room filled with her favorite scent and allowed herself to sink down into the tub to enjoy.

She was asleep within minutes, lulled by the heat and the silence of the dim bathing chamber.


	4. Nightmares and Requests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little more after-ball aftermath; Scrimgeour comes to lunch and makes a request of Snape.

Severus shot awake at the sound of screaming. His hand wrapped around the wand under his pillow and he was out the door before the first piercing shriek had faded away, running toward the source of the terror. Bursting into the bath, he found Hermione, alone, asleep, and gripped in the throes of a nightmare as she slipped beneath the bath water. She woke when she drew in a lungfull of liquid and flailed, choking and spluttering as her shaking hands grabbed for the sides of the tub.

Without thinking, he rushed toward the tub and pulled the shaking woman on to the bathmat, placing her on her stomach to cough out the water she’d accidentally inhaled and drawing her sopping hair out of her face. He held her shoulders as Hermione was wracked with coughs. “That’s right, Hermione. Get it all out,” the man murmured as she braced herself on her elbows and heaved with her forehead pressed to the floor.

Severus didn’t need to say anything more. How many times had he woken, shouting and fighting against invisible attackers? The war might be won, he thought, but the cost to those who fought in it had yet to be tallied. 

Gradually, Hermione’s breathing eased and she became aware that she was crouched on the bath floor, completely naked, with her former potions professor holding her back. She groaned, flushing furiously and curled into a tighter ball. “Robe?” she gasped, as she continued to cough. 

Suddenly recognizing that he was, in fact, holding his very naked apprentice, Severus shot to his feet and grabbed her bathrobe from the door hook and settled it over her prone form. He watched Hermione struggle with the sleeves for a moment before crouching down and helping her wriggle into the warm garment. She was beginning to shiver as her damp skin cooled and Severus knew he needed to get her warm quickly; inhaling a large quantity of water had a tendency to turn into shock under the right circumstances, and she would certainly need to be monitored for signs of secondary drowning. 

Carrying Hermione toward her room, he bundled her into her bed robe and all and drew the covers as high as he could. Once she was under the sheets, chafed her hands between his own. “Are you warming up?” he asked, keeping his voice low and steady.

She made a noise of confirmation, coughing a bit as she inhaled raggedly, and leaned her head back on a sob. “You were all dead. Not stunned, but killed. Everyone I care about, nearly everyone I know was just gone in a blink, and I couldn’t stop them.” She inhaled a hiccupping gulp of air, closing her eyes against the tears she couldn’t stop. “I kept firing hexes and killing the Death Eaters, but every time I killed one I looked down and it was one of you! I couldn’t stop them, and then I killed you all.” She withdrew her hands from his loose grasp to swipe at her face. 

Severus looked toward the door, wondering why no one else was running up the stairs at the sound of Hermione’s screams. He could only think the floor must be silenced, which would mean these dreams were a regular occurrence. Hardly surprising; after the horrors they’d all seen and the acts they’d had to perform, he wouldn’t be surprised if everyone in the house suffered from cursed nightmares.

With a sigh, he leaned forward and gathered Hermione into a tight hug. He rocked her back and forth and made soothing noises (or what he hoped were soothing noises) as she cried herself out on his shoulder. Honestly, his heart went out to the girl. He’d been prepared for his nightmares; they simply mirrored the atrocities he’d seen and, in some way, he felt he deserved him after his years of “service” to the Dark Lord. Hermione hadn’t been prepared for hers...she’d been thrust into a war-in-the-making at such an early age. He couldn’t help but wonder if an entire generation of Hogwarts graduates would be plagued by the same fears that had chased him for the past two decades.

He continued to rock her, saying nothing and stroking her drying hair, until her sobs subsided. When he glanced down at her tear-stained face, he saw that she had literally cried herself to sleep. He lay her against the pillows and watched for a moment as she twitched against the dark thoughts that swam through her unconscious mind.

Severus scrubbed his hands over his own face and looked around the room and saw an armchair wedged in the corner with an open potions theory book laid over the arm. He smirked at it and marked the page before placing it on her dresser and settling into the chair to keep watch through the night.

 

✿ HG/SS ✿

 

He woke quickly, as was his habit, and not a little confused. Bright sunlight was pouring through the window and he was covered with a blanket; Hermione was nowhere to be seen and her bed was made. He could only conclude that she’d woken during the night and placed a silencing charm on him before going about her day. 

A quick  _ tempus _ told him it was nearly ten, so he rushed to shower and prepare himself for his day. Hermione’s towel was half dry -- she must have been up for several hours.

When Severus finally wandered downstairs, he heard voices coming from the kitchen. Hermione sat at the kitchen table with Molly, Arthur, and Ginny Weasley. She appeared to be working the  _ Prophet  _ crossword.  “Good morning.” Severus greeted the crowd before unerringly moving toward the teapot and trivet at the end of the table, trying his best to ignore the scents coming from the Aga and accompanying rumbles of his stomach. 

“Oh, Severus!” cried Molly as she crossed from the stove. He found himself wrapped in a tight hug, the cloying scent of gardenias and neroli tickling at his nose. “Thank you for last night. I was just telling the others -- thank you all for last night. I hesitate to think of what would have happened if you had not all had your wands and been unaffected by that stunning spell.”

“Molly, had I been stunned and you conscious, you would have done the same. No thanks are necessary.” He gave the woman an awkward pat on the back before reaching for his tea and doctoring it to his liking (a splash of milk, three sugars). He sat next to Hermione at the table whose hands were also wrapped around a mug of the warm brew.

His apprentice-to-be turned her head to look at him and, coloring slightly, nodded her head in a silent thank you for his help the night before. No more needed to be said; he didn’t enjoy speaking of his nightmares either. 

“How are your arm and shoulder this morning?” he asked her quietly. 

“Healing. Madam Pomfrey was here earlier and checked us all.” she tugged the sleeve of her shirt up to show him the pale pink line -- all that remained of the vicious slash that had torn her flesh the night before. “She says I won’t even have a scar...and that I should commend you for ‘finally learning how to cast a decent healing spell’.”

He snorted a bit at that and snagged a piece of long-cold toast from the center of the table.  Hermione nudged a copy of  _ The Daily Prophet _ in front of him as he smeared raspberry preserves on the bread.

> **_Heroes of Hogwarts save dozens at the Battle of the Ball!_ **
> 
> _ The Ministry of Magic’s highly anticipated Victory Ball was interrupted last night when several fugitives arrived without invitation. The attack was led by notorious criminal and high-ranking Death Eaters Arcturus Yaxley, Thorfinn Rowle, and Vincent Crabbe Sr. were captured along with eighteen You-Know-Who supporters. _
> 
> _ The occasion, which should have marked the unprecedented award of nearly twenty Orders of Merlin, ended on a tragic note when Auror John Dawlish and Undersecretary for Education Althea Amberton were killed in the fracas. Junior Death Eater Gregory Goyle was also died at the hands of an unnamed member of the Order of the Phoenix. Several Order members sustained injury in the attack, though none were fatally injured. _
> 
> _ Eyewitness reports support the idea that a modified stunning hex was used to render the majority of the attending Order members unconscious before the battle began in earnest. Mass carnage to the gathered attendees was prevented by the quick and heroic actions of Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Draco Malfoy, and Severus Snape, all of whom received Orders of Merlin Second Class for their efforts in the Battle of Hogwarts just minutes before the attack. The Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, seems to have been the target of the invasion and has been quoted as saying “Thank Merlin those six had their wands hidden in their dress robes.” _
> 
> _ The Aurory has commented that, though He Who Must Not Be Named is deceased, magical citizens should still be wary of fugitive Death Eaters and report suspicious persons to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. For more information on how to lodge such a report, see page 3… _

Severus swallowed the dry lump in his throat and washed it away with tea. “Well at least they got the facts straight for once,” he grunted.

He finished his toast in silence as the others chattered around him, reaching for another piece to fill the hole in his stomach. It had been ages since he’d felt an actual appetite for food, and the past two weeks had seen him eating normally for the first time since Voldemort’s return in 1995. 

“Don’t eat too much, Severus!” Molly chided, moving to check something in the oven. “The Minister is expected for lunch this afternoon. He’s bringing Ron and Neville with him.” she added as she bustled around the kitchen.

With a roll of his eyes, Severus glanced at Arthur. The older man shrugged. “I believe he’s bringing the discarded Orders of Merlin with him as well as some news about the attack. He’s asked that we all remain in residence for the day so he can speak to us all at once. We expect the rest of the Order shortly.”

Severus merely sighed and finished his breakfast. “I’ll be in the library until then.” Nodding his thanks for the tea and toast to Molly, he swept from the room, noting that Hermione rose to follow him. She waited until he took a seat in the armchair by the fire, then moved to sit opposite him.

“Prof -- um Severus, I wanted to thank you for your helping me last night,” she said, coloring slightly. He could practically hear her brain shouting _Don't think about him seeing you naked don't think about him seeing you naked._ He really was going to have to teach her to occlude before they could begin work. He only hoped she was better at it than Potter.  


“No thanks necessary, Hermione,” he said, waving a hand in dismissal.  


She simply nodded and shifted in her seat uncomfortably, clearly searching for something to say and coming up short. “Um, Madam Pomfrey asked me to tell you that she wants to examine you when you return to Hogwarts. Sooner if you’re not feeling well.”

He rolled his eyes. “Of course. I’m surprised she didn’t storm upstairs and cast diagnostic charms on me in my sleep.”

Hermione smiled at that. “She wanted to, but I didn’t think it would be a good idea while you were in my room, even if you were just in the armchair.” 

He grunted. “Likely not.” He summoned a book from the shelf at random in an effort to forestall further conversation. If he was going to have to be polite to Scrimgeour during lunch, it was best he marshaled his social energies now. He cracked open the book and leafed through it at random, ignoring his apprentice’s surprised snort.

“ _ Fordyce’s Sermons _ ? Really?”

“Yes,” he replied testily. “Is there a problem?”

“You just don’t seem to be the type to read on the morality of female condition.” 

Severus closed the book and dropped it on the table next to him, abandoning the pretense of intending to read. “Perhaps I just wanted something to distract me from your incessant chattering.”

“You could have just asked me to be quiet, you know.”

“In case you haven’t realized, I am a Slytherin. We don’t state things directly, but rather hope that you will take the hint,” he said with a sneer.

“In case  _ you _ haven’t noticed, sir, you asked a Gryffindor to be your apprentice. Most of us don’t really do subtlety.”

“I’d rather thought I’d asked the only Gryffindor with a capacity for subtlety to be my apprentice. Was I mistaken?”

Hermione blushed. “I -- thanks.” She seemed momentarily taken aback by his backhanded compliment. “I’ll just get a book of my own and leave you to your thoughts then,” she said, withdrawing her wand to summon one. She settled back into her chair as  _ Combination Theory: Reagent Interactions and Stirring Arithmancy for the Advanced Potioneer  _ sailed into her hands. He recognized it as the book he’d set aside in her room the previous evening.

Severus quirked a brow at her choice of leisure reading. “Getting a head start on your apprenticeship?” 

“Hmm, yes. I purchased a number of the books on the list you sent me before I knew they’d be provided. I’d hoped I’d be allowed to make some supplementary purchases with the allocated funds, but was going to wait until the 25th to ask you about that.”

“I’m sure that can be arranged. I’d recommend  _ Arithmantic Potency: Reagent Half-Life and Calculable Risk  _ by the same author if you find the subject engaging.”

She smiled at him. “Thanks.”

He saw that she was nearing the end of the volume, but stopped himself before asking whether she agreed with the balsa-wood-rod half-stir conjecture. She’s offered to let him sit in silence, so he should probably respect her desire to do the same. There would be time enough for discussions potions theory in the coming year. He frowned.  _ Or six. _

 

✿ HG/SS ✿

 

Lunch was an informal affair, if a bit tense. Molly had cooked enough for an army and the assembled members of the Order fell on the food like well-mannered locusts. Even Albus seemed to perk up as he filled his plate chicken pie, hot bread, and green beans. Ron plowed through two plates of food, complaining that St. Mungo’s hadn’t fed him much of all, and none of it as good as his mother’s cooking. 

Molly apologized for the informality of the meal when Scrimgeour arrived. “I’m sorry I couldn’t knock together something finer, Minister, but I only received your owl this morning.”

“Mrs. Weasley, if you knew how much I loathed the formal dinners I have to attend, you wouldn’t apologize. I can’t remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal, and chicken pie is a favorite.” So saying, he scooped an ample serving onto his plate and settled at the center of the long kitchen table to tuck in.

It was Harry who spoke up at that point. “Can I ask why you summoned everyone to Grimmauld, Minister?” He glanced around the table toward his friends and professors, glad for once that his status as The Boy Who Lived gave him the courage to (politely) ask the Minister of Magic just what the hell this was all about.

“Of course, Mr. Potter. It’s quite simple, really. I wanted to deliver the paperwork that accompanies the Orders of Merlin that each of you received last night.” He produced a small stack of scrolls, each closed with a Ministry seal. With a wave of his wand, he sent the scrolls around the table, then applied himself to his meal once more.

Severus unrolled his scroll and felt his eyebrows rise to his hairline; he was now the recipient of an Order of Merlin  _ First Class _ . If the gasps from across the table were any indication, the other five victors who’d fought at the ball had received a similar “upgrade”. 

“Minister,” Hermione began. “I don’t understand.” 

“There won’t be another ball or ceremony to commend you for your vigilance at the ball, but I felt -- and my cabinet agreed -- that you each deserved to receive Orders of Merlin, First Class. You risked your lives again. You protected me. You protected each other. You protected the other attendees. And you did so with minimal loss of life, helping us to remove another 20 Death Eaters from wizarding world’s general population. So your Orders are first class, with all the privileges that entails, and you have my personal thanks.”

Severus stared at the parchment in his hand as Hermione, Ron, and Neville stammered their thanks. Luna and Draco seemed equally speechless. An addendum at the bottom of his award indicated that a yearly stipend would be made available for his lifetime; he felt his heart speeding up slightly. It wasn’t an ungodly amount -- not quite enough to live off of -- but it was enough that he could look at expanding B.B. Brewing into experimental potions and wider distribution of its current catalogue...and he could save up for retirement more effectively than he had during the past two decades. It was a good thing he was bringing Hermione on as an apprentice. He’d need her work as a competent brewer to help with any expansion plans.

As the six heroes of The Battle of the Ball recovered from their lunchtime surprise, Arthur cleared his throat. “Minister, are there many more fugitive Death Eaters still at large?”

“Not many,” Scrimgeour confirmed, “and none from the inner circle. Severus’ help was indispensable when it came to rooting out some Voldemort’s supporters from their hidey-holes.”

“Hardly a difficult task when half of them made me their secret keeper.” Severus smirked.

“Yes, well. It was still very helpful.”

Severus nodded his head in silent acknowledgement of the Minister’s gratitude and applied himself to his own meal, half listening to the exclamations and questions flying around the table as he made his own plans for his new monetary windfall. He glanced at Hermione, who seemed to be lost in reading and re-reading her Order of Merlin notification. He could probably put her on improving his research on the Vampiric Anti-Viral that he'd been trying to formulate before Dumbledore had asked him to shift his efforts to Voldemort's defeat.  


A quick look from Scrimgeour caught his attention as the older wizard nodded his head toward the door. "Professor Snape, a word?"

WIth a nod, Severus rose and followed him from the room. "Minister?"

"I don't know if the Headmaster has been keeping you informed with some of the developments from the Death Eater interrogations we have conducted to date."

"He has not seen fit to do so, no. I've been tasked with preparing my curriculum for the Fall, assisting with repairs to Hogwarts, and preparing my new apprentice for her duties," he said, motioning to Hermione. "Not to mention the interviews and folderol surrounding the Dark Lord's defeat."

Scrimgeour had the grace to look contrite at that. "Sorry about all that. You know the public needs a spectacle after every piece of news; my Ministry is simply appeasing that desire."

"Which is why I would never set my aim at governance, Minister."

"It's not for everyone. But that isn't why I wanted to speak to you. I wanted to speak to you about the potion that you used in the final battle to disable the Death Eaters."

" _Magicae Remotio_."

"Yes. That. we've noticed that the imprisoned Death Eaters have begun regaining a small part of their powers in the past week."

Severus quirked an eyebrow. "Have they? That's faster than anticipated. Excellent."

"Excellent?  You mean, they were _supposed_ to regain the use of their skills?"

Severus was surprised at Scrimgeour's obvious displeasure. "Of course. We may have been at war, Minister, but we sought non-permanent solutions to defeating our enemies wherever possible. The Dark Lord was, obviously, the exception to that rule."

"Well, your non-permanently disabled Death Eaters are now wreaking havoc in the Ministry's holding cells. Azkaban hasn't been restaffed now that the dementors are gone and we don't have the ability to contain the wandless magic that has been floating around the cells over the past couple of days. If we don't find a way to contain over two hundred Death Eaters with varying levels of wandless magic, we're going to have a riot or a mass escape on our hands!" the Minister said, spittle flying from his mouth to perch on the edge of his lip.

Severus thought he knew where this was going. "And how do I factor into this, Minister?"

"We need more of your _Remotio_ potion. Enough to subdue the Death Eaters until they can each face trial."

"I don't have any more, Minister. It took me nearly a year of brewing to create enough to disable the Death Eaters the first time."

"Can you brew more? And quickly?"

Severus sighed. So much for a well-deserved holiday before trekking off in search of ingredients. "I can brew enough for the purposes of keeping the Death Eaters contained temporarily. It applies topically; you'll have to render each subject unconscious temporarily to apply it. I can have it for you in two weeks. Can you contain the prisoners adequately for that period?"

"I believe so," the older man grumbled. "The Magical Law Enforcement department would be interested in having you to brew the potion on a regular basis for its use in subduing criminals. They've asked me to speak to you about an exclusive contract."

Severus nodded. "Of course. I expected no less. Have the office head contact me and we can fold the potion into my Veritaserum contract when it comes up for renewal next month." 

Scrimgeour looked relieve at his easy acquiescence and barrelled on. "The Ministry would also like to engage you to improve the potion."

Severus regarded the man silently, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"They would like a potion that permanently severs a witch or wizard from their magic. To be used in cases where the magic user would be sentenced to The Kiss, since that is no longer an option for us." Scrimgeour looked at Severus expectantly.

"No."

"I beg your pardon?"

"No. I won't do it. I refuse to research such a solution on behalf of the Ministry or any other organization. So, no."

"You can't refuse!" the Minister sputtered.

"I can and I have. If that's all, Minister?"

"That is certainly not all, Snape!" the man ground out, face rapidly turning an unattractive mottled red. "We need a form of punishment to replace The Dementor's Kiss. Your potion is the most promising thing we've seen in months! It's your civic duty to improve the formula."

Severus studied the Minister a moment before responding. "No, it is not. I fulfilled my civic duty many times over by spying for the Order, at great personal risk I might add. I fulfilled it by brewing _Magicae Remotio_ and in defending your person and those present at the prematurely named Victory Ball from yet another Death Eater attack. My only duty now is to myself and my students. I will not be party to helping the Ministry strip witches and wizards -- no matter what their criminal past -- of what defines the magical self."

"Well, that's certainly changing your tune, Snape," Scrimgeour spat. "Weren't you the one _begging_ for Sirius Black to receive the kiss just a few years ago?"

"I was." Severus conceded. "And I was wrong. I cannot help you Minister. Good day."

At that, Severus Snape turned his back on the Minister and moved to rejoin the rest of the Order at the table. 

"This isn't over, Snape."

"Yes, Minister. It is. Good day."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, I know, but it made more sense to break it here. Longer chapter this coming week.


	5. Ground Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rita Skeeter strikes again and Snape ain't happy 'bout it. Also, Hermione has a Secret Admirer.

 

_May 25, 1998_

“I can’t bloody believe that woman! How is she still considered a reliable source for ‘news’ at all?”

A yawning Harry plopped down at the kitchen table across from Hermione and sleepily took the paper from her shaking hands. “What’s Skeeter said this time?”

“Apparently, I, in the wake of my grand heroics of the Victory Ball, am now dating Severus Snape Not because I’ve seen him or heard from him over the past week, but because I had the good fortune to be dancing with him at the time of the attack!”

Harry shrugged. “You knew it was only a matter of time before Skeeter decided that the hero angle was played out and focused on your love life. It’s not like she’s never done it before.”

“That’s hardly the point. Do you have any idea what this means? I already can’t leave the house without being surrounded by reporters and photographers. We barely made it to our NEWT examinations without being attacked by that mob and I’m _sure_ it affected my performance! And I’ve received over two dozen marriage proposals over this bollocks. But _no_. Now I’m going to have every daft blighter in wizarding Britain offering to ‘save’ me from the evil clutches of the reformed spy. Harry, this is ruinous! I’m going to squash that bloody bitch if it’s the last thing I do! What? Don’t give me that look, what?” She looked at her smirking -- and very soon to be maimed in some horrifying way -- best friend in outrage.

“Nothing, ‘Mione. It’s just that...well, now you know how I’ve felt since fourth year. Skeeter’s awful, but you’re never going to shut her up. She’s half the reason those bloody papers sell as well as they do.” Harry reached out and patted her hand comfortingly. “And I’m sure you did well on your NEWTs. It hardly matters if you got Os on everything. You’ve already signed your contracts for the apprenticeship.”

“Also not the point!” she retorted. “It’s the principle of the thing. I shouldn’t have had to take my exams feeling like a sheep being chased cross-country to the examination station! That daft bint acts like we’re glory-hounds, Harry. I didn’t help the Order or you because I wanted fame and fortune. I did it because it was right.”

“Sure, but ‘right’ doesn’t sell newpapers, Hermione. Scandal does. The hero line gets old quickly. Are you the smartest witch in Britain? Probably. But that’s not interesting. Now, whether you’re sleeping with the man who just offered you an apprenticeship -- and settle down, I know you aren’t -- that makes the newspapers. You know that’s how it is.”

She slouched a bit in her chair and crossed her arms. “I don’t like how it is.”

“Of course you don’t. None of us do. Do you think Ron and Neville liked having their romance, newly established as it is, blasted all over the papers? Ron was foaming at the mouth!”

“You know what the worst of this is?”

Harry sighed. “The five-hundred owls carrying howlers that are going to come tapping at the window in the next two hours?”

Hermione snorted. “No -- and it’s Ron’s turn to clean up the pellets, by the way. It’s that I have to go to Hogwarts today for tea with Professor Snape.

Harry paled visibly. “Oh my. Hermione, you know I love you like a sister and would wish nothing but happiness for you...but I can honestly say I do not envy you that encounter.”  


✿ HG/SS ✿

It was with some trepidation that Hermione walked up the path toward Hogwarts with Neville in tow. He was to meet with Professor Sprout this afternoon, so they had apparated together, each using the other as a proverbial shield against the hordes of reporters and photographers camped out near Grimmauld Place. (Thankfully, the secret-kept nature of the house meant that none of the stalkers newspeople could tell exactly where the ‘heroes’ would emerge.)

“Alright, Hermione?” her friend asked.

“Yeah, I suppose. A bit nervous really. You saw the _Prophet_ this morning, right?”

“I did. Sorry about that. Thanks for bumping me and Ron to page three, though,” Neville joked a bit slyly.

“Long may it last. Skeeter’s just making it up now. One dance with my boss and suddenly I’m sleeping my way into the adult world.” She sighed in disgust.

Neville looked puzzled at her comment. “You know, I’ve always wondered why that is. I mean, Rita Skeeter has had it out for you for years, I know. But she does this to lots of women. It’s never about their success. Or at least, not about their successes alone. She always ties it to sex. Why should it matter if you’re sleeping with anyone?”

Hermione laughed bitterly and kicked a stone to the edge of the path. “You’ve never spent much life in the Muggle world, Neville, but the Wizarding world is woefully antiquated in comparison. I mean, stuff like this happens in Muggle newspapers too. Just not as predictably. And not as frequently. Remind me to explain the patriarchy to you over a drink sometime. For now let me just say this: Skeeter is a product of it. About as indoctrinated as one can get, really. And she helps to perpetuate it. And it’s why I’m going to find a way to crush her like the beetle she is.”

“Worm.” Neville corrected.

“Pardon?”

“Crush her like the worm she is.”

The bitter laugh rang through the air again as the crossed they crossed into the long shadows of Hogwarts’ outer keep. “No, Neville. Believe me when I say that I’ll crush her like a beetle, not a worm.”

Their conversation ended abruptly when they saw two figures waiting just outside the castle’s main entrance. Predictably, the tall figure in black spoke first.

“Ah, Miss Granger. Mr. Longbottom. Our newest...celebrities. So glad you can grace us with your presence.”

Neville gulped audibly. Hermione simply glared.

Pomona Sprout shoved an elbow into her colleagues ribs, eliciting a slight grunt. “Oh, hush Severus. It’s not as if they have any more control over the papers than you do. Come in my dears. Tea will be served in a few moments.” She stepped back and ushered her two former students -- her two favorites, really -- into their former home. “I’m glad that you could both make it. I know you must have been busy preparing for your NEWTs.”

Hermione and Neville nodded as Sprout led them toward the Great Hall. They walked straight through and, to Hermione’s surprise, mounted the steps that led to the High Table, skirting the darkened wood to slip through the unassuming door at the back of the hall that she’d seen some of the professors use before.

Both former students were pleased to see that they’d been shown into a small lounge that was clearly reserved for the Hogwarts teaching staff. A long conference table took up one end of the room, but squishy and well-loved couches and armchairs sat on the other, some flanking a large hearth and others gathered around small tables.

“Please, take a seat. We’ll be joined by the Headmaster for a bit before we split off to discuss your individual duties.” Sprout gestured toward the chairs at one end of the vast table, and each of the apprentices-to-be took a seat near the end of the table. They’d barely pulled their chairs into the table when the door at the opposite end of the room opened and Dumbledore entered, carrying a small sheaf of papers under his still-blackened arm. Hermione made a mental note to ask Harry about that at some point.

“Ah, Mr. Longbottom. Miss Granger. Welcome back to Hogwarts, though I daresay that it hardly feels like you’ve been away.” The elder wizard’s eyes twinkled brightly and he walked toward them with a noticeable spring in his step. Peace clearly suited the man, despite his brush with danger at the ball just a week prior. “Or, I suppose, welcome Neville and Hermione as you’re to be on staff in just a month’s time.” He plopped into the seat at the end of the table, thumping the papers down in front of him.

“Hello, Headmaster.” Neville greeted politely. Hermione smiled and nodded to the man.

“Albus now, my dears. Though I expect that will take some getting used to. Now then! I know that your Masters are eager to abscond with you both for tea and what I’m sure will be polite discussions of your duties as apprentices. The generalities you already know, of course, but there are specifics to communicate. I’m here to give you these.” He waved his wand and two papers off the top of the stack and handed them to each former student. “These are copies of the signed contracts you sent me last week. And these,” another two papers flew toward them, “are copies of your personal contracts with your masters.

“Now, this -- “ a packet of papers shuffled toward both Hermione and Neville, “is a list of your duties as an apprentice and junior member of the Hogwarts staff. I suggest you read it carefully. It includes a rota of your patrol duties, your detention duties, and the rules for point awards and demerits. Though I trust you’re both somewhat familiar with those.” That kindly smile again. “I’ve spoken with the other staff members, so each of you will find a list of the additional tutoring sessions that you will attend outside your chosen field. Hermione, your schedule concentrates on Astronomy, Charms, Ancient Runes, Herbology, and Arithmancy. Neville, yours concentrates on Transfiguration, Astronomy, Potions, and Charms. You will both learn to teach primarily through observation of your Masters, but you will also attend a private session with Professor McGonagall monthly to refine your classroom skills.

“You both gained full access to the library the moment I filed your contracts, including access to the Restricted Section and the Stacks. Irma Pince has granted you the ability to take books over the summer holidays as long as you record your activities in the log at the circulation desk. She trusts you both to return the books in the condition in which they were borrowed. You may return to Hogwarts at any time before your official apprenticeships start in July to use the library or visit with any of the professors in residence, though I suggest you write ahead to make an appointment for the latter. Any questions so far?”

Hermione and Neville both blinked at the Headmaster, thoroughly poleaxed.

“A day when Miss Granger has no questions. Dear me. I believe Hell hath frozen over, Albus.” Snape observed in what Hermione assumed was meant to be a witty tone of voice. She barely refrained from rolling her eyes in front of her Master and new employer.

“Thank you, Headma -- Albus.” Hermione spoke decisively. “I believe you have been very clear in your description, and I’m sure what questions I do have will be answered by the materials you have provided. If we do have further inquiries, I assume we can make an appointment to speak with with you in the coming weeks?”

“Of course, my dear!” he exclaimed. “Or you can just come by for tea. Minister Scrimgeour seems rather put out at the moment, dealing with the aftermath of the attack at the Victory Ball. I’m quite at loose ends this summer.”  Hermione didn’t believe that for a moment, but she did appreciate the man’s efforts to make both new staff members feel welcome.

“Now then, I’m sure that your new Masters are eager to indoctrinate you to their ways. Before you go, however, I thought you might both like these.” The last objects on the table -- envelopes closed with the Ministry seal -- flew toward them. “The Ministry Examiner's office was kind enough to rush us your results so that they could be placed in your files before the start of your apprenticeship. I’ll let you see the specifics for yourself, but rest assured that the scores you achieved in no way endangered your new positions. Congratulations to you both.” His eyes twinkled again as he rose from his chair. “I’ll see you both in July if not before. Have a lovely afternoon with your Masters.” With this, Dumbledore swept from the room, his mauve robes and shiny trinkets rustling and tinkling behind him.

“Why do I feel as though I’ve just been run over by a velvet-robed steamroller?” Hermione asked. Only Snape snorted in response. Both Sprout and Neville stared at her in confusion, so she waved her hand in dismissal. “Muggle thing. Don’t worry about it,” she mumbled. With a quick grin at Neville, she reached for the envelope in front of her. He did the same and they ripped into their respective NEWT score with gusto.

Hermione’s eyes trailed down the long list quickly and she breathed a sigh of relief. Os in Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Charms, Defense, Herbology, Potions, Transfiguration. E in Astronomy (really?) and History of Magic (there just hadn’t been enough time to devote to studying the Goblin Wars before testing). Considering she’d taken nine NEWTs (the average was five) just two-and-a-half weeks after fighting for off an invading army in her school and a pack of Death Eaters at a ball _and_ after sustaining mild injuries, she was well pleased with her results. She could live with seven Os and two Es. She could. She wouldn’t resent those two Es at all. She ground her teeth a bit as she thought that.

“Alright, Hermione?” Neville asked.

She blew out a breath. “I’m...satisfied. You?”

He grinned. “Three Os, two Es, and an A. Not bad, all things considered. How’d you do?”

Hermione blushed to her roots and mumbled. “Seven Os. Two Es.”

“Merlin’s earlobes! You took nine NEWTs? _Why_?”

“They wouldn’t let me do Care for Magical Creatures or Muggle Studies as I didn’t take them final year.”

Neville stared hard. “You mean you _tried_ to take eleven NEWTs? Hermione, I think you’re touched.”

“Indeed, Mr. Longbottom. So does half the teaching staff at Hogwarts. Still trying to prove ourselves, are we Miss Granger?” He smirked at his apprentice in genuine amusement, though internally he was more than pleased with her results. She was his first student to score an O on the Potions NEWT. Ever. He was even rather gratified to see that Longbottom had scraped by with an A.

Hermione blushed again but didn’t reply. Frankly, she was still upset that she hadn’t been allowed to sit the Creatures or Muggle Studies exams. She’d never understood her classmates’ hesitancy to take on more subjects than they did. Perhaps as a Muggle-born witch she simply had a better appreciation for all the knowledge her adopted world had to offer her. Sometimes she thought she’d like to bury herself in the great wizarding libraries of the world and never emerge.

“Well I’d like to congratulate you both, my dears!” exclaimed Professor Sprout. “And I’m sure the rest of the staff -- those without a stick up their backsides, at least -- ” she said, looking pointedly at Snape, “will be happy to add their congratulations to mine when they next see you. Now I don’t know about you, but I’m famished. I believe it’s time Neville and I abscond to Greenhouse eight for tea, don’t you my boy?”

Neville smiled gratefully and rose, moving awkwardly toward the door before offering Professor Sprout his arm. She giggled like a girl and placed her arm on his as they made their way back toward the Great Hall.

Severus sneered after them. “Well, don’t just sit there girl. We have a lot to discuss.” He rose brusquely and moved toward the opposite door. “You’ll pardon me for not proffering an arm, Granger. It makes me an abysmal _boyfriend_ I’m sure.” His voice was so sharp it could have cut steel.

 _So we’re back to Granger then are we? I wish I were surprised_. “That’s alright, Professor. Seeing as I’m sleeping with you only to gain my Mastery, we need hardly adhere to the niceties of civilized society.” She made sure to use her most sarcastic tone of voice as she responded to his baiting.

“Touché.”

She rose and preceded him out the door, which she found led into a hallway that she’d walked many times. She’d never noticed a door here before and could only deduce that the hall was charmed so that only staff members could enter the room. She noted the portraits near the door -- a rather gaudy painting of a man in lederhosen holding a euphonium and a painting of a goose. The goose looked particularly mean as it snapped its beak. Hermione hated geese.

She and Snape made their way down to the dungeons, taking the stairs quickly and without conversation. She allowed him to usher her into his office, where she took a seat at the small table by the fire where tea was already laid. He left the room and returned moments later, having shed his outer teaching robes in favor of a frock coat. He gestured toward the tea service. “Will you pour?”

Hermione did so without complaint, inquiring how he took his tea (light milk, three sugars) before preparing her own (heavy milk, no sugar). They sat back and regarded each other in silence as they sipped the warm beverage.

Finally, Hermione spoke. “You do know I had nothing to do with Skeeter’s article.”

“Yes.”

“And that I rather resent her implications myself.”

“Yes.” he responded again.

“And that I have no intention of sleeping with you or any other professor here in an attempt to promote my own career.”

“That goes without saying.”

“Good. Then I hope you’ll drop the subject in polite company. I didn’t appreciate your ribbing when we arrived, and I would hope that you could treat me with more respect than that in front of my soon-to-be colleagues or the students.”

Severus winged an eyebrow as he studied Hermione. He had expected an apology for the inconvenience of being associated with her in the newspaper, not being taken to task by a girl half his age. Not that she didn’t have a point, but she didn’t need to know that.

“And am I to expect a similar courtesy? That you will not drag me into any more of your publicity or in any way impugn my reputation?” He schooled his voice so that it rumbled lowly in his chest, just shy of menacing.

“I can hardly be held responsible for what Rita Skeeter chooses to write. If you recall, you asked _me_ to dance. You woke me when I was rendered unconscious. You healed my shoulder.”

He snorted. “I suppose I should have let you bleed out in that ballroom, then.”

“It’s not that I’m ungrateful for your help in that case. I’m just pointing out that she is drawing from _your_ actions as much as mine. We are going to be working together for years and we are both, apparently, now public figures. I suspect that any appearance we make at the same event will set the rumor mill off. So it will be up to us to treat one another with respect. I’ve been trying to do that for years as your student, so I don’t believe I’ll have a problem. You, however, will likely struggle with this far more than I.”

Hermione saw that she had struck a chord. She caught a flash of surprise pass over his features before he once again regained his habitual look of impassiveness. “It’s rather presumptuous to make demands at this stage in the game, isn’t it _Apprentice_ Granger?”

She waved a hand. “Stop that. No, it’s not. It’s called ground rules. I know you’re about to hit me with a metric tonne of your own, so I’m simply laying claim to the only one I feel I have a right to. I will always endeavor to treat you with respect and I would like you to extend me the same courtesy. Full stop.”

“Very well. I’ll endeavor not to make you run from the classroom in tears. Again. Or otherwise publicly mention anything else the bloody _Prophet_ chooses to print. I expect the fervor will die down soon enough.”

She nodded. “Thank you. And yes, it always does. I’ve been through this a few times before. Though I’d suggest screening your mail for howlers for a few days. I apparently have some rather ardent -- and certifiable -- admirers thanks to Skeeter.”

The corner of Snape’s mouth tilted up as he replied. “Already done.”

✿ HG/SS ✿

When Neville and Hermione returned to Grimmauld Place that evening, they were both exhausted and elated by their meetings with their respective Masters. The remainder of Hermione’s conversation with Snape had been straightforward and with little prevarication. He explained his plan to expand the brewing business and what her role in that would be. She was thrilled at the prospect of beginning research into Vampire anti-virals so quickly. It had been an interest of hers ever since meeting Sanguini at Slughorn’s party two years ago. Snape had also warned her that the Ministry would likely be contacting her about the magic removal potion used in the final battle now that her apprenticeship contracts had been filed. She was told to tell the truth -- that she knew nothing about the potion or its brewing process -- and to offer nothing further. That seemed reasonable enough.

He also explained that she would be taking on the bulk of the grading for the first through fourth years and helping with the grading in years five through seven. This would free up enough time for Severus to instruct her in the evenings after classes. As the apprenticeship progressed, she would slowly begin to take on teaching duties as well. They’d renegotiate the grading load as they went.

Between research, grading, refining her potions skills, extra tutorials in other subjects, and her duties as a junior staff member, Hermione felt that she’d be kept very busy indeed. Her workaholic nature couldn’t have been more excited.

Snape had even loosened up enough to show genuine approval at her own research interests, namely the creation of medicinal potions to ease the suffering from rarer magical conditions. He’d promised that they’d touch on some of those possibilities in their work together. She'd need to define a topic for her research project quickly as her initial findings would be required to finish her Journeyman certification. He’d released her after three cups of tea on the understanding that they’d meet again when he returned from his travels at the end of June. Hermione couldn’t have been more delighted at the prospect of beginning the work he’d planned for her.

Wandering into the kitchen, Hermione and Neville found Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Draco gathered. A large bouquet of flowers sat in the center of the scarred tabletop, blooming with stargazer lillies, roses, and freesia, and snapdragons. The scent was intoxicating.

“Oh, how lovely. Your work, Draco?” Hermione had caught Draco hiding extravagant bouquets at Grimmauld a few times in the past couple weeks, not wanting to let his parents know that he’d begun courting Luna Lovegood. Not that they were any position to object.

“Nope. The envelope says they're for you. Though I’d love to know where the sender got them. And how he got the floo address.”

“They’re gorgeous, Hermione. Who sent them?” asked Ginny.

“No idea.” she said, reaching for a card half-hidden in the fragrant blossoms. She made a humming noise in her throat. “The card reads, ‘He could never love you as I do. I will treat you as you truly deserve. A Secret Admirer.’ Well that’s sweet, I guess. Creepy, but sweet. You checked them for curses, right Harry?” She smiled at his nod of confirmation.

“Mostly creepy, if you ask me,” snarked Ron.

Hermione shrugged. “This happened the last time Skeeter implied I was dating someone. You remember when she said I was dating Alfie, that bartender at The Three Broomsticks last fall? The poor man got hexed after closing one night and I got flowers from a Secret Admirer. There’s always some creeper who thinks he can ‘do right by me,’ even though they’ve never met me. It’ll blow over.”

“Wait,” said Harry, his auror-in-training-to-be instincts kicking in. “You’ve gotten a bouquet like this before?”  

“No, not like this. Smaller, less opulent. And the card was different. Different writing, different style of prose. I just mean that I’ve gotten flowers from strangers before. Skeeter’s articles seem to bring out a strange mix of reactions in the wizarding population. A few of the nutters like to send stuff to me on occasion. They’ve always been harmless, and trust me I check.”

“That’s just...weird. Do me a favor and let me know if any more mysterious gifts turn up for you. Something seems off about this,” her friend said.

“I’ll tell you what’s off,” said Draco. “I can’t find flowers like that for any amount of ready money.”

Ginny snorted. “Honestly, Draco. If that’s all you have to worry about these days, you haven’t enough to occupy your spare time.”

“The war is over, Weaslette. That means I can go back to doing what I do best -- being a right pain in your arses.” He smirked at the group in general, though with the teasing overtones of a new friend rather than the needling ones of an old enemy.  
  
Neville slid into the seat next to Ron and slid his arm around the redhead’s shoulders. “Looks like you’ll fit in with the rest of us then, mate.” The group laughed, the flowers on the table forgotten as they made plans to enjoy their evening together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Sorry for the long delay between chapters, folks. As I explained in my other running fic, I was out of state visiting the parental figures and didn't get to do the amount of writing I'd hoped to do. I'm back in the game now, though, and the juice is flowing.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me these past couple weeks!


	6. A Hogwarting We Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to Hogwarts with ye, young apprentices!

“Hey, ‘Mione?”

Hermione paused in the act of shrinking yet another box of books down to stow in her old Hogwarts trunk. “Neville! When did you get here?”

The tips of Neville’s ears turned bright pink as he replied. “Erm. Last night. Date night, you know?”

“That’s just the sweetest. God, why aren’t more guys like you two romantic idiots? Date nights and time together and snogging -- don’t give me that look, I _know_ why I couldn’t get into the butler’s pantry last week.”

If it was possible, Neville turned even redder. “Well you’ve got some romantic idiot chasing you, right?”

“Try about a hundred romantic idiots. And creepy idiots. And sick idiots. God, I could just kill Rita Skeeter for all of those articles about the ‘Heroes of the Victory Ball’. As the only unattached female of the group, I’ve suddenly become the wanking obsession of every wizarding Tom, Dick, and…well, not Harry.”

Neville laughed. “Hopefully not Tom either. Unless you’re into dead arseholes, in which case...ew. But I was actually referring to whomever keeps sending those flowers.” He gestured toward her nightstand, where a bouquet of hydrangea stood, then her dresser where a bouquet of fully opened peach roses sat. Other bouquets were sprinkled throughout the house -- her secret admirer had sent one every day for the past month, each beautiful and each magically charmed to last longer than they would normally.

Hermione sighed. “Oh, _him_. I’ve no idea who keeps sending the flowers, but they’re obviously a wizard of means. The notes are getting weird, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well it started off weird. Kind of ‘I love you, he isn’t good enough for you.’ I can only assume the _he_ is supposed to be Professor Snape -- as if. But now he’s sounding kinda desperate. Look at this one.” She handed him a card from on top of a sizeable stack of varied enchanted greeting cards.

“Hm. ‘I love you, I need to be with you. I have to make mine.’ Okay, you’re right. Very strange.”

“You think? I’m just glad we’re heading to Hogwarts tomorrow. Between the photographers everywhere I go, _The Prophet_ ’s incessant need to speculate on my love life, and this creeper, I’m beginning to view our return to Hogwarts as a relief -- despite what will be a massive increase in workload.”

Neville laughed at that. “Only you would view a new job as a vacation from the annoyances of everyday life!”

“Oh, you don’t fool me. I know you’re looking forward to getting into the greenhouses as much as I’m looking forward to getting into the potions lab. Anyway I’m getting off topic. What did you need anyhow?”

“Oh. Um...I just wanted to see if you wanted to head to King’s Cross together tomorrow? Gran has a fancy ladies’ retreat at some spa on the coast this week, so she’s not seeing me off to the station tomorrow. And uh, Ron invited me to stay the night again.”

“See? Sweet. You know, I still don’t understand why the Headmaster doesn’t want us to apparate tomorrow. We’re going to have to bring beater’s bats to fend off Skeeter’s battalion of photographers tomorrow.” She was still somewhat annoyed that they’d have to face their ‘devotees’ tomorrow. Neville had faced his share of lovelorn letters, but his new (and highly public) relationship with Ron largely seemed to protect him from their attentions. Hermione, on the other hand, had barely been able to leave Grimmauld Place for the past month. A single trip to Diagon Alley had nearly become a riot and that near-riot had, of course, graced the front page of _The Prophet_ . _At least I’m ahead on my apprenticeship reading_ she groused mentally.

“Dunno. I think it’s partly tradition on Dumbledore’s part. You know -- the process of transitioning to Hogwarts over several hours and all that. Plus, if what you’ve got here is any indication, we’re both going to have too much stuff to pack into a single trunk. Even shrunken down. Seriously, Hermione, did you buy out a library over the past few weeks?” He looked at the stacks of books still to be packed in bewilderment.

Hermione gave Neville a sheepish smile. “Maybe. I ordered a bunch of texts by owl since I couldn’t really leave the house. I might’ve gotten a bit carried away.”

“Blimey. I hope they give us rooms with space for lots of shelves!”

 

✿HG/SS✿

 

Hermione was ready to go bright and early the next morning, despite the fact that she’d stayed up until nearly two to finish packing (and repacking) her belongings. Even after shrinking everything down, she’d still had four heavy trunks in the end. One full of her ‘mobile library,’ one full of her teaching and dress robes, Muggle clothes, and other personal belongings, and one full of potions supplies, and one full of school supplies and her ‘fun’ books. She admitted to herself that she was, perhaps, a bit over-prepared for the next few months. She knew she could leave the school if she needed anything, but thought it better to act as though she wouldn’t be able to get away for a few months. Who knew how much work Professor Snape was going to put on her right away?

She’d levitated the trunks downstairs and was waiting for Neville by the front door. She was unsurprised when Neville came down the stairs with Ron, but quite surprised with Harry, Ginny, Remus, and Tonks emerged from the first floor bedrooms. “Are you our honor guard today?” Hermione asked with a cheeky smile.

“Couldn’t let you go off to Hogwarts all on your lonesome, could we?” Harry said.

Tonks snorted, then added, “Plus you’ll need us there to keep Skeeter and her cronies off you.”

Hermione groaned. She was not looking forward to the moment they arrived at Platform 9 ¾. “Well, thanks for that. I’m glad we’ll have some company in fending off the hordes. I suppose we ought to say goodbye here then?”

Run grinned and slung his arm around Neville’s shoulders. “It’s not like you’re off to the Arctic, ‘Mione. Besides, Ginny’ll be there when school starts. And I’ll be moving out there in August to set up the shop, so we’ll see each other a lot I reckon.”

Ginny scoffed and muttered under her breath, “If he ever gets out of Neville’s bed.”

“Hey, I heard that!” Neville groused as the group began to exchange hugs of farewell. Hermione sniffed a bit.

“You’ll come visit us in Hogsmeade, right?” Hermione asked, looking at Harry, Tonks, and Lupin.

“Of course we’ll make time to come see you, love.” Tonks said, stepping forward for her own hugs.

Finally, goodbyes had been said and there was nothing left for it but to head to the station. Lupin cast featherweight charms on Hermione and Neville’s trunks and each person grasped a handle of one of the six trunks and they apparated to the platform at King’s Cross.

It was pure pandemonium.

Rita Skeeter was at the head of a phalanx of photographers and what appeared to be wizarding _fans_ shouting questions at Hermione and Neville as her quick quotes quill snapped and flourished in the air. “Marry me, Hermione!” was shouted from several wizards in the crowd -- Merlin’s pasties, was that Dedalus Diggle? -- and an overeager witch thrust a journal and inked quill toward Hermione for her autograph. The quill, unfortunately, was not self-inking. Hermione found her arm unceremoniously splattered with ink in a virulent shade of orange ( _not_ her color).

“Miss Granger, is it true that you’re seeing Severus Snape?” shouted a photographer, attempting to get a rise out of Hermione so that he could snap a good photo.

Hermione didn’t deign to reply and merely rolled her eyes and kept walking down the platform.

“Hermione Granger, can you tell us why you chose to date the enigmatic Potions Professor?” asked Rita Skeeter, hot on her heels. Hermione shot a quick glance at Neville to catch his eye, allowing a small smirk to grace her face before flexing her hand in a piece of wordless, wandless magic, causing Skeeter to slip on an invisible puddle and land on her backside.

“Nice one,” muttered Neville out of the side of his mouth. Hermione heard Tonks stifle a laugh as Lupin reached down to help Skeeter to her feet, conveniently blocking her further progress toward the train.

Harry, bless him, opted to take one for the team at this point, dipping Ginny over his arm and planting an almost suave (if not for her giggling) kiss on her lips. The photographers immediately turned their cameras toward The Boy-Who-Snogged-Publicly and allowed Hermione and Neville to elbow their way onto the train. With a twitch of their wands, the trunks followed them onto the shortened Hogwarts Express -- Hermione wondered idly where they kept the unneeded cars during the summer -- before giving their friends a wave from the doorway.

“We’ll see you soon, Hermione! Give our love to Dumbledore!” shouted Ginny, still gripping her boyfriend’s hand.

“And watch out for the tentacula, Neville!” shouted Ron to his boyfriend with a wicked grin on his face.

With a laugh, Neville and Hermione turned away from the door just as the train’s whistle shrilled. They made their way down the corridor, only to find that the first two compartments were filled with trunks. “That’s odd. I didn’t think there were any other apprentices this year,” Hermione said to her traveling companion.

Neville shrugged and gestured toward the end of the car. “There are lights on in that one. Might as well?”

They were shocked to find that the compartment contained their newly acquired Masters. Pomona Sprout and Severus Snape were seated near the windows, the former tucking into a make-shift picnic of biscuits and a large thermos of tea and the latter with his considerable nose in _The Prophet_ as his own tea cooled on the ledge. The headline “Gryffindor Princess and her Potions Master Missing in Action: Where are the Lovely Heroine Hermione and Severus Snape?” graced the front page.

“Oh!” Hermione exclaimed, somewhat perturbed by the photo of a graceless fourth-year Hermione tripping over a Hogwarts flagstone under the headline. “Um. May we join you?”

Pomona looked at her apprentice and Hermione and smiled. “Of course, dears. I expect you’ll have to -- we’ve filled nearly all the compartments already.”

Snape looked up from his book and smirked at the pair. “Mr. Longbottom and Miss Granger,” he greeted. “Tell me, Miss Granger. Are we engaged yet, or are we merely intending to live in sin?” He shook the paper at her as he scooted inward, making room on the compartment bench for Hermione as Neville took his seat beside Pomona. The Herbology Professor summoned two more cups and poured tea -- a lovely Maghrebi mint -- for both the young protegés.

“Oh, Severus, leave them be. Not even at Hogwarts yet and you’re already starting that nonsense.” Pomona replied, slapping at the man’s knee.

“You know I don’t have any control over that tripe Rita Skeeter publishes,” Hermione griped. “Though I am sorry you’ve been roped into it.”

Snape snorted derisively. “I’m well aware of Miss Skeeter’s tendency to make up news from whole cloth. I’m only grateful that she’s only accused me of unprofessional behavior this time. A year ago she likely would have accused me of keeping you under _Imperius_ to harvest potions ingredients.”

Neville spluttered and dribbled a bit of tea down his front before recovering himself and clearing his throat. “So, erm...why’re you taking the Express to Hogwarts, Professors?”

Sprout patted her longtime favorite student on the knee. “I told you to call me Pomona, dear. And as you can see, we had a rather considerable amount of luggage to get back to the castle this year. Now that You Know Who has been vanquished, we were both able to move much more freely throughout Europe to replenish and increase the Herbology and Potions stores. I’ve such wonderful specimens to add to the greenhouses this year, Neville!”

“I assume you were equally successful, Prof -- Severus?” Hermione said, shakily forcing herself to use her mentor’s given name.

Snape simply returned his attention to the paper. “Obviously. Hermione.”

Hermione shot a look across the compartment toward Neville and Sprout, catching the older woman’s eyes. She simply smiled and widened her eyes in a _you know Snape_ fashion and began asking how they’d spent the last month.

Snape remained silent, occasionally turning a page in the paper.

It was going to be a very long seven hours.

 

✿HG/SS✿

 

Shortly into the trip, Neville and Sprout hied themselves off to explore the compartment-turned-temporary-greenhouse to observe some of the more persnickety fauna that Pomona had acquired on her trip. The Amazonian Fire Clover had very specific parameters for continued growth and was nearly impossible to cultivate outside of a greenhouse, but its medicinal properties were unsurpassed for nerve repair. Pomona wanted to show Neville the bloom now as they would have to rush to plant it as soon as they arrived at Hogwarts.

Hermione and Snape sat in relative silence for more than an hour. He applied himself to the _Prophet_ crossword while Hermione buried herself in one of her comfort books -- Charlotte Brontë’s _Jane Eyre_. The book was a perennial favorite, and she'd always felt that it was an appropriate read for the ride to the ghost-ridden, imposing edifice of Hogwarts. Well, that and she adored a good love story.

She was just to the part where Mr. Rochester was commanding Jane to entertain him when Snape’s voice replaced that of the taciturn lord of Thornfield Hall.

Hermione looked up, startled. “Pardon?”

“I asked what you were reading.”

“Oh.” She tilted the cover so that he could read the title. It was a lovely leather-bound edition -- a gift from her parents after she’d worn out the ancient paperback copy that had been her mother’s as a child.

“Really? I had no idea you were interested in tragic,Gothic heroes. Should I be worried that Rita Skeeter had something right after all?” He raised a sardonic brow in her direction.

Hermione closed the book with a snap and huffed out a breath. “Okay, you need to stop that.”

Snape merely tilted his head in inquiry.

“I mean it. Teasing is one thing -- I’m used to that from the boys. But the articles that Skeeter keeps publishing are vile and they’re causing enough trouble in my life as it is. I really don’t want to deal with fallout from her...bad yellow journalism from you on top of everything else.” She crossed her arms across her chest and looked her mentor in the eye.

Snape looked momentarily taken aback at her outburst. “My apologies, Hermione. I was attempting to be... friendlier. The Headmaster indicated that it might help you ease into your new role as apprentice.”

Hermione sighed. “No offense, sir, but that wasn’t terribly friendly. More confrontational than anything. Or...I dunno, mean spirited?”

He shrugged. “I’m afraid I have little experience with extending overtures of friendship to young women. I haven’t attempted that sort of behavior since I was younger than you.”

“Just be yourself, sir. We’re going to be working together nearly every day, so I’m sure we’ll muddle through.”

Snape nodded. “Fair enough. You called me Severus before. In the spirit of...friendliness,”he said the word with some distaste, “you should continue to do so.”

“Thank you, Severus.” She tried a smile.

He leaned back in his seat and regarded her. “I confess, I’m surprised by your choice of reading material. I would have thought you’d be hip deep in potions tomes by now.”

“Oh, I have been. I finished all the reading you assigned and a fair bit more on top of it. I’ve barely been able to leave the house for the past month, so there’s been nothing but time to read. I thought I could use a break.”

He looked confused. “Why weren’t you able to leave the house?”

She gestured toward the paper. “Our friend Skeeter, of course. I get mobbed everywhere I go, either by Skeeter and her ilk or by 'fans'. I’m hoping that by decamping to Hogwarts the fervor dies down a bit.”

“I see. I suppose that my comments struck a sour note, then.”

She nodded. “Quite. Skeeter has always been awful, but she’s been worse since the Victory Ball. The fact that you were dancing with me when we were attacked hasn’t helped. The others are getting their fair bit of press too, but nothing sells papers like The Gryffindor Princess.” She said the name as though it were laced with asphodel extract.

“Unless it’s The Boy Who Lived, of course,” Snape sneered.

“Now that he’s happily paired with Ginny again, they’re mostly leaving him alone. Coupled people are boring unless they’re snogging, fighting, breaking up, or getting married. That’s probably why they keep trying to pair me off with you -- you’re an enigma, so they can float ridiculous rumors to their hearts' content and they all sound equally plausible.”

“Hmm.” Snape replied. “Well, as you said it will likely die down once you’re out of the public eye for awhile.”

“Your mouth to Merlin’s message pile.” Hermione said, reopening her book.

Snape looked down at his crossword once again and furrowed his brow. “Eight letters, something something O. Like a cake, less delicious and more enchanting.”

Hermione didn’t glance up from her book. “ _Spongify_.”

She didn’t see the small smile flutter across Snape’s face as he penciled in the word, and they sat in a more companionable silence until Neville and Sprout returned.

 

✿HG/SS✿

 

It was dusk when they finally arrived at the Hogsmeade station, and Hermione was relieved to see that the platform was empty of reporters. Hagrid and McGonagall stood at the base of the stairs, and six carts stood hitched to thestrals.

“Evenin’ Perfessers, Hermione, Neville.” Hagrid said with a huge grin. “Welcome back ter Hogwarts.”

Hermione grinned and rushed toward Hagrid for a hug. “Hagrid. It’s good to see you! How’s your summer been?”

“Not bad, not bad. Now, I’m sure you and Neville’ve got trunks, yeah? Just spell ‘em over to that first cart while I help Perfessers Snape and Sprout with their findins’.” The half-giant strode up the stairs as Hermione gestured with her wand, levitating both her luggage and Neville’s out of the train carriage and into the first cart. Only then did they turn to Professor McGonagall.

“Hi, Professor McGonagall. Good summer?” asked Neville.

“Tolerable, Mr. Longbottom. Or should I say Apprentice Longbottom now?” Her eyes twinkled at two of her favorite Gryffindors.

“Neville will do, ma’am,” he said, shuffling his feet a bit.

“Then Minerva will do for me. Welcome back, my dears.” The elder woman’s stern visage fell away at this point as she smiled at both Hermione and Neville, then moved forward to embrace them both in a somewhat stiff hug. “I’m so pleased you’ll both be back at Hogwarts this year, and very proud that you’ll be relaunching the apprentice program. Come. We’ll all be in the first carriage while Hagrid sees to the materials Sprout and Snape brought back from their travels.”

“Oh, shouldn’t we help?” asked Hermione.

“Hagrid is more than capable of seeing to it,” said a familiar voice from behind her. “Good to see you, Min.” Severus said as he drew his friend into a rough hug. Hermione would have been less shocked if he’d broken into a brief tapdance.

“Glad you’re back safely, Severus. Pomona!” McGonagall turned from one longtime friend to another as she hugged the shorter witch. “Well, let’s be off then. Hagrid, we’ll see you back at the castle!” she called.

“Right you are!” he called as he brandished his pink umbrella to float several trunks toward the waiting thestral carts.

A scant hour later, Hermione found herself comfortably ensconced in a cushy seat by the hearth in the staff room, a hot toddy in one hand and a prawn salad sandwich in the other. Minerva had ushered her there with Snape as Sprout and Neville transplanted their Amazonian Fire Clover in Greenhouse 11. Both Minerva and Filius (as he’d stated he’d respond to nothing else from Hermione) had joined them as they’d tucked into the light meal.

Minerva polished off her smoked salmon sandwich and washed it down with a short swallow of whisky. “Albus said to convey his regrets that he couldn’t be here to greet you; I’m afraid Scrimgeour requested his presence in London earlier this afternoon. He asked that I show you and Neville to your rooms. I’m sure Pomona and Neville will be while in the greenhouses, but we can see to your apartments right away if you wish.”

“Thank you Pr-- Minerva. I’d like that.”

“No time like the present then, if you’re finished eating?” Hermione quickly ate the last two bites of her sandwich, leaving the rest of her toddy. She wanted a clear head for the moment.  

Severus, Filius, and Hermione followed Minerva through the hallways and toward the Trophy Room and then up into the East Wing of the castle. She hadn’t spent much time in this part of the castle, though she knew that Fred and George had discovered a passage behind Gregory the Smarmy in their first year. They climbed still more stairs to the top of the East Wing, where Hermione was shown a somewhat new portrait of Hesper Starkey. After speaking the password “Godric’s Own”, the foursome entered her quarters.

Hermione was pleased that the room itself was fairly sizeable. It consisted of a small sitting room with two chairs, a large desk, and a small table with four chairs. Large enough that she could entertain a few friends for an informal meal (very informal, judging from the size of the kitchenette). There were four doors, two on each side of the sitting room. The first led to a bedroom, the second to a sizeable bath. On the other wall, one door led to a storage space, the other to a laboratory.

“I have a laboratory in my quarters?” she asked Snape.

He stepped into the small laboratory and gestured for Hermione to follow. “The castle has established that door as a passage into the laboratory that I have assigned for your use during your apprenticeship. It is warded. The password is currently ‘saxifraga,’ though you should change it and key the wards to your wand.”

“How convenient. I suppose I assumed I’d live in the dungeons,” she replied.

“Don’t be silly. The dungeons are no place for a person to live if they expect to maintain any semblance of health over the winter.” He moved toward the two doors on the opposite wall of her laboratory. “This door leads to the Potions classroom, the other to your office -- which connects to mine and is warded accordingly. You will knock before entering. The castle can be positively labyrinthine, but I think you’ll find that this layout, at least, makes a great deal of sense.”

“Yes. As long as I pay absolutely no attention to physical reality!” she snarked.

Snape simply shrugged and moved back into her quarters.

“Well, Hermione? Will this suit?” McGonagall asked with a slight smile on her face.

“I have to admit, it’s far more than I expected to have as an apprentice. Thank you.” She smiled at her former Head of House, then at the Potions Master.

“Your things will likely arrive in the next hour or two, so you’ll be able to get settled later this evening. For now, I think it might be wise for you and Severus to talk about the next steps for your tomorrow. I’ll bid you goodnight for now.” McGonagall moved toward the door just as Filius stepped toward Hermione.

“Come see me tomorrow, my dear, and we’ll go over the schedule for your Advanced Charms work. I know it’s not your specialization, but I do believe you’ll benefit from some advanced tutelage! Oh, I have things to show you Hermione!” The little man was positively vibrating with excitement.

“I’ll look forward to it, Filius. Would three o’clock be appropriate?” She turned toward Snape as she asked this, unsure of her schedule for the day.

“Best make it a morning appointment. Once we begin for the day I suspect we will not stop for much beyond lunch or tea.”

“I think you’ll find that Severus isn’t a morning person, Hermione. Come by my office after breakfast and we’ll go over your schedule. Now you get settled and I’ll see you tomorrow!” He trotted off after McGonagall, calling his colleague’s name as he dashed.

Hermione turned to Snape and looked at him expectantly. “And what time should I be ready to work tomorrow, Severus? And where shall I meet you?”

Snape shifted uncomfortably. “You’ll pardon me, but I find it somewhat inappropriate to hold this conversation in your quarters.” Without another word he turned and marched through the door to her laboratory, though her office, and into his own before taking a seat at his desk. She followed and sat opposite him, surprised to see that the door to her office was in a location that had seemed empty during the few occasions she had visited his office before.

“Now then, tomorrow we will meet in your laboratory at 10 o’clock. We’ll begin by ensuring your laboratory is set up for brewing and I’ll help you stock it. You’ll notice that there are two supply cabinets in your lab -- one will hold the supplies for BB Brewing Company, the other will hold the stock for your research and experiments. You may keep your personal stores in the latter. Please do not mix the supplies between the two. If you run out of something in the BB cabinet, let me know and I’ll see that it’s replenished.”

He slide a piece of parchment across the desk. “I’m going to start you on brewing some basic supplies for the infirmary. Poppy is low on several items after the battle and these need to be replenished. Use the supplies in the storage room off the classroom for this. We’ll key you to those wards in the morning. After you’ve completed the infirmary potions, you’ll begin work on Wolfsbane potion for BB Brewing.”

“Wolfsbane?” Hermione exclaimed. “I’ve always wanted to brew it, but isn’t it incredibly complicated?”

“It is, but not in the way you expect. Wolfsbane is complicated because it requires very exactly measured ingredients and a very precisely timed stirring pattern. We’ll go over that in more detail in a week or so. I don’t expect the infirmary brewing will take you very long.”

Hermione simply nodded, somewhat dumbfounded by the level of confidence Snape was placing in her.

“That will do for tonight. I’m sure your luggage will be arriving momentarily, so I’ll let you get settled in for the night. Longbottom’s quarters are two floors down behind the portrait of Dymphna Furmage. You’ll spot it -- it’s the one with all the pixies.”

Hermione snickered, remembering a few of the blue terrors accosting Neville in their second year. _Oh, Nev will just hate that!_

“My quarters are down the hall from yours. I do not expect you will need anything as you are well acquainted with Hogwarts as it is, but if you do you can use your floo to contact me or knock on my portrait. It’s behind the portrait of Dzou Yen.”

“Lovely. Thank you.”

Snape rose and Hermione did the same. “If you have no other questions for me?”

She shook her head. “None, thank you. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Don't forget, your house elf’s name is Zandi. She’ll help you with anything you need in your quarters, including furniture if necessary.”

Hermione paused at the door. “Severus, I do have one question.”

With a sigh, he paused from the act of opening the door to his own laboratory. “Yes?”

“What exactly does the BB in your company’s name stand for? I couldn’t puzzle it out.”

For the first time in her seven plus years at Hogwarts, she saw the Potions Master break into a genuine grin. “I would have thought it obvious, Hermione. You are now in the employ of Bastard Bat Brewers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter is long. 
> 
> For those who are curious, I am a horrible gardener but a huge fan of seed planting in my fics. So, yes, I do often turn to the language of flowers when it comes to Severus (I figure he's an old fashioned gent as well as a potions master, and therefore well versed in such things). I am also using a map of Hogwarts in this fic (which is not the case in RwaV). I'm using the madasafish site below to explain where things are in the castle. 
> 
> The site itself is full of great research if you're into medieval architecture and some HP sleuthing. (Remove the spaces to visit!)
> 
> http:// members.madasafish.com/ ~cj_whitehound/ Fanfic/ map_of_Hogwarts/ castle.htm


	7. Settling In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Neville settle into their new rooms, then experience their first days as part of the Hogwarts staff. Severus explains some of his grump, and Hermione shows him a thing or two.

Hermione spent a happy evening unpacking her wardrobe, arranging furniture, and carting her new potions supplies into her personal laboratory. Zandi, who like most of her species was preternaturally polite, was supremely helpful in acquiring additional bookcases to house the not-insubstantial library housed in Hermione’s trunks. There was a comfort in sorting and alphabetizing her collection; nothing that made a room feel like home like being surrounded by the colorful bindings and distinctive scent of books both old and new. In a way, these books were her oldest friends and constant companions. The knowledge and worlds contained within had supported her through times both good and bad, and so it felt good to give them the respect they deserved by categorizing and shelving them appropriately.

Clothing received the same attention, categorized by weight and type, then put in chromatic sequence like a paint fan. Organization literally made Hermione Granger tick.

She went to bed late that night, but content with her lot. Her life was organized and categorized the way she liked it. The crazies and their floral offerings and fevered shouts of love were out of her life for the time being. And she had work -- real work that she knew she would enjoy -- to look forward to in the morning.

Hermione’s dreams were sweet.

 

✿HG/SS✿

 

Breakfast was an informal affair. It seemed that half the teaching staff was galavanting around Europe now that Voldemort’s darkness had been largely vanquished. Apart from Professors Snape, Dumbledore, and Sprout, only Professors Flitwick and McGonagall were in residence at the moment. In the face of such a small breakfast crowd, the high table had been abandoned in favor of a small, round one, and the five professors conversed quietly with the two apprentices as they ate. Well, four professors did. It would seem that Flitwick’s warning that Severus Snape was not a morning person had been perfectly accurate. As he was without students present to force him to maintain the haughty and taciturn demeanor that Hermione had grown used to in her seven years as a student, Snape appeared thoroughly unawake and sleep deprived. And silent. He stared into a mug of pitch-black tea as though it were purported contained the answers to the universe and the professor found it lacking. He’d barely grunted a morning greeting at the table before pouring tea and filling his plate with muffin, black pudding, and egg. 

After breakfast, Hermione met with Professor Flitwick (“Oh, call me Filius! You’re staff now, dear.”) and outlined her work with him over the course of the next two years. They would be working together to round out her charms education -- some of which would focus on her teaching work -- with both specific spells and with spell creation theory. In particular, they’d be concentrating on wandless, wordless magic. Hermione couldn’t wait to get started.

At just past ten, she found seated in Professor Snape’s ( _ Severus’ _ , Hermione reminded herself) office, waiting for her now appropriately-caffeinated mentor to speak. She expected him to launch into a practiced speech not unlike the one he gave at the beginning of each class -- no foolish wand waving or perhaps how she wasn’t a dunderhead as she’d survived to enter his tutelage. His first statement therefore surprised her.

“Hermione, why did you accept Dumbledore’s offer of an apprenticeship with me?”

“Sir?” Was he disappointed to be working with her already?

“Why did you accept? I’m curious.”

“Um, well there were several reasons, sir. Severus. I mean, you're quite possibly the most talented living potioneer in Europe. Maybe in the world. And I already know how you work. But mostly I suppose it’s because Potions have always been the biggest challenge for me. And...and because I knew you wouldn’t have allowed Professor Dumbledore to extend the offer if you hadn’t believed that I could become a capable Potioneer.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I see. So you viewed the offer as...unspoken praise for your abilities?”

“Not of my abilities, no. Of my potential to learn what you have to teach.”

She noticed a glimmer of approval in his eyes. “Not a bad answer, all things considered,” he murmured. “Very well. I feel that I should lay out a few ground rules before we begin.”

Hermione nodded, waiting for him to speak.

“I have not had an apprentice before, so you and I will be exploring this territory together. I know how I would like things to work, but it would likely be...fair to allow you some input in this as well. I don’t have a desire to treat this like an advanced class -- you’re beyond that. Therefore, our work together will be a conversation between a superior and junior colleague. Which means, unlike your classroom work, you should ask questions.”

Hermione gaped at Snape. Never before had he  _ encouraged _ her interruptions in class, no matter how valid. She would finally have the chance to gain his approval and show her professor how hard she’d worked to prepare for their work together. He clearly saw the delight race over her face and sighed.

“Don’t mistake me, Hermione. I don’t have patience for unnecessary displays of your ability to memorize a book. I assume you have something akin to an eidetic memory, yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I thought as much. That will be handy for your work, but I’m sure you realize that rote response is not what comprises higher level work of any kind. This apprenticeship should teach you to think.”

“I thought you said it would teach me creativity,” she responded with some caution.

He smiled at that -- a tight, but genuine twist of the lips that hid his teeth from view, but brought a welcome light to his fathoms-deep eyes. “Yes, and where does creativity stem from, Hermione? Creativity in potions comes from three things: extensive knowledge of the subject, the bravery and, sometimes, audacity to try new things, and the ability to think  _ differently _ . Knowledge you can acquire. Bravery you have in abundance. It’s your ability to think beyond what you’ve read that I want to expand.”

Hermione found herself nodding her agreement.  _ Better and better. He means to take this -- me -- seriously! _

Her new mentor continued. “We’ll start with the basics. You’ve already done considerable reading, and there is more yet to be done of course. But we need to fine-tune your practical skills. We will return to some of the most basic potions first, and finesse your brewing skills one by one.” He handed her a pages-long list of basic potions from years one through five of his teaching curriculum. “You’re going to begin by brewing two cases of each of these potions -- one each for the infirmary and one for the stock of BB Brewing. The ingredients for these are all in stock and available in the appropriate storage rooms.”

She interrupted him here. “I thought your company specialized in hard-to-create potions like Wolfsbane?”

“We do, but we also offer a limited supply of more basic potions. You’d be surprised how few people are capable of brewing even the most basic first-aid potions. I employ two full-time brewers who concentrate on these types of potions, but I am considering bringing on a third. We’ll be testing whether the increase in stock sells quickly enough to justify this shift with your work in the next few weeks. Eventually, you’ll move on to the more complex potions, which only I brew.”

Hermione’s head was spinning. “Alright. So I’ll be brewing the basics. Pepper-up and burn cream, I assume?”

“And anti-nausea medication, contraceptive potions for both men and women, vitamin infusions, rash creams, arthritis tinctures...you have te list. I’ll monitor your technique and final product on each of these until I feel you can be trusted with the more complicated brews.”

“That’s fair.”

“So I suppose this is where I must ask you if you have any requests for how we work together over the next few years.” He grimaced, clearly unaccustomed to having to adjust his working environment for anyone.

“I...I suppose my only request is that you treat me with respect. You were awful in our classes most of the time. I don’t think I could work like that for another six years.”

Snape gave her a terse nod. “You do realize that I was under a great deal of stress throughout most of your schooling.”   


“Yes. And some of your behavior is understandable when viewed in that light. I’m just asking that you not call me names or insult my appearance. And if you could refrain from making jokes at my expense when I ask a questions, that would be good too. Particularly when in front of the students.”

Snape snorted. “That’s a reasonable request. Though I’d like to think I haven’t been  _ quite  _ as much of an ogre for the past...oh, fifteen months or so.”

Hermione merely quirked a brow. “No. You haven’t. Though you had a few moments, last year.”

“I’ll blame that on the fact that I was charged with brewing a veritable sea of a potion more than ten years in the making, then finding a way to magically replicate it to flood the castle keep. The success of the potion might have released me from my duties as spy, but it trebled my workload in the castle. I don’t think I slept more than three hours a night all of last school year. And you have to admit, Potter and Weasley were singularly trying over the past several months. Years, really.”

Hermione was shocked at this revelation -- first that Snape had managed to exist in such a state without going stark raving mad and second that he chose to explain to  _ her,  _ of all people, the reasons for his famed moodiness.

“I didn’t realize. I suppose I assumed you had some help with brewing.”

He shrugged. “I did not. The potion is complex; I think only Dumbledore’s brewing skills might have been of use, and as you and I know he had other duties of his own last year. As did each member of the Order. Regardless, I think you’ll find that I’m not quite as impossible when I’m not being forced to live a double life. And when I am allowed a reasonable amount of sleep.” He followed his statement with that same twist of the lips, a facsimile of a smile that looked like his face was long out of the practices of emoting.

“Then I suppose I’ll look forward to that this year.” Hermione said with a small smile of her own. She paused, glancing down at the papers in her hands, if only to break eye contact before saying something that she was sure was entirely Gryffindor in sentiment. “Did anyone ever thank you?”

Snape blinked at her. “What for?”

“For your research on the  _ magicae remotio _ . For literally creating the potion that turned the tide of the war, that allowed Harry to bring Voldemort down, that likely saved all of our hides. No one ever thanked you.” The last was a statement of fact.

“I -- no.” He looked momentarily nonplussed. “I didn’t do it for thanks or for glory. I did what had to be done. As did we all.” 

“Well, I’ll say thank you anyway, though you deserve far more than my thanks.”

Snape shifted uncomfortably before inclining his head in a sign of reluctant thanks. “We should move on. You didn’t take an apprenticeship to rehash a war, and there are potions to brew. We’ll start on burn salve today, and we can discuss some of your summer reading while you work. We’ll use your laboratory. I want to inspect the equipment you acquired.” He stood suddenly, moving toward his office door with a sweep of his robes and passing through it to his lab, then hers. Hermione followed, eager to shed the melancholy feeling that pervaded the room in favor of productive work.

 

✿HG/SS✿

 

Hermione returned to her rooms eight hours later. Her hair was plastered to her head in an oily mess of curls and snarls, and her robes hung limply from her frame.  _ No wonder Profe -- Severus always looks a disaster! _ Hermione had never brewed a full day before. She would need to speak to Filius about charms to keep her cool. Dinner would begin shortly, and she would be late if she stopped to shower. 

She sniffed at her still-damp robes. Damn it all, she’d be late.

Hermione raced through her ablutions, securing her wet hair on top of her head in a knot with two carved ebony wood hair sticks -- a birthday gift from Ginny last year. Hermione could help but notice that the adornments bore an uncanny resemblance to the carvings on Severus’ wand.

As she drew on fresh slacks, shirt, and robes, Hermione couldn’t help reflecting on her mentor. She hadn’t realized that so much of his disposition in recent months was due to sheer over work. It made sense, of course. Even after leaving Voldemort’s ‘service’ after the near-fiasco on top on the Astronomy tower sixth year, he must have been hideously busy between teaching, grading, working for the order, and brewing enough potion to float a battleship. Why had Dumbledore not offered him some assistance? A teaching aide to help with the grading, at the very least.  It was hardly fair. 

She shook her head as she raced down the corridor toward the Great Hall. At least she could take some of the strain off of Severus this year. It was the least she could do to thank him for overseeing her apprenticeship.

Dinner was well underway by the time she arrived, and Minerva glanced up at her with a smile. “Hermione, my dear. I’m glad you’ve come to dinner. We were worried Severus had tired you out in your first day.”

“Oh! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep everyone waiting. I wanted to shower before ‘dinner. I’ve never brewed for so many hours at a time before; I wasn’t dressed cooly enough. She glanced at Snape, who was studiously applying himself to his meal. Hermione bit her lip and hoped he hadn’t read her statement as an oblique judgment. He clearly hadn’t showered, though he didn’t look quite as bad off as she had.

Neville, who looked a bit ruddy after a day’s work in the gardens with Pomona, grinned at Hermione as she slid into the seat next to his. He tugged at a loose curl. “It’s probably all this hair, ‘Mione. It must be like brewing with twelve wool hats on!”

She batted his hand away and reached out to serve herself the summer squash salad, stuffed tomato, and roasted pork that comprised the evening meal. As she did so, Dumbledore clapped his hands and flutes of champagne appeared at the right of each place setting. “Now that both our new apprentices are here, I thought I’d propose a small toast: To Hermione and Neville, who are leading Hogwarts into a new era of peace. My dears, you are the future of Hogwarts, and we welcome you here and wish you great luck in your endeavors.” He raised his glass and the entire table chorused “To Hermione and Neville!” before drinking to their health. Even Snape participated.

Dinner was lovely. The staff had been interested to hear how Hermione and Neville had spent their first day, and each wanted to schedule time with them in the mornings to work on their supplemental lessons. Hermione had a private lesson with Pomona in the morning. Neville would be meeting with Snape. The poor boy paled, despite the presence of a lovely gooseberry torte in celebration of their first day. (Snape seemed unperturbed and consumed three slices).  _ Apparently Snape has a sweet tooth _ , Hermione mused to herself with an inward smile.

After dinner, Neville offered her a tour of the staff greenhouses -- where Pomona grew her more specialized plants and where each staff member had a small section for their own personal use. Hermione was delighted to find out she’d be able to cultivate a few plants of her own for brewing purposes.  She made a mental note to speak to Pomona about suggestions for planting during her lesson in the morning.

“So how’s working with Snape?” asked Neville as they looked over the fanged geraniums. 

“Professor Snape,” Hermione replied automatically. “And it went well toay. He has me brewing basic potions for the infirmary stores today. He says it’s to assess my skills at the simplest things before I can progress to the more complex potions.”   


Neville grinned. “Pomona has me doing the same thing. I swear I spent half the day tilling. By hand. My back is killing me!” He looked absolutely thrilled.

Hermione laughed and laced her arm through his. “It’s a bit weird being here, just the two of us. I don’t really feel like a staff member yet. Do you?”

“It’s only been a day, ‘Mione! Give it time.”

“I miss everyone though, you know? I mean, Gin is coming back and Ron will be in Hogsmeade next year, but it won’t be the same. Harry’s off to train and Ron will be keeping shop. It’ll be different.” She tried to stop herself from pouting.

“I reckon we’ll be to busy to notice, if today is any indication.”

She smirked a bit at that. “You have a point there. Severus had me slicing rutabegas for over an hour in order to attain the perfect twenty-five degree angle. I finally transfigured a beaker into a mandoline slicer and set it at the right angle. I thought he was going to have a fit!”

“What did he do?”

“He stared at me for a full minute, murmured ‘ten points to Gryffindor’, then transfigured one of his own to use. I guess he’d never thought to use a kitchen implement in his lab. Or maybe he doesn’t cook and didn’t know what one was?”

Neville snorted. “I’m not sure I know what one is. Actually. Do I need one for potions?”

She shrugged. “It would hurt. And it’s a little angle block used for slicing and making julienne cuts. They’re popular in France. And on cooking shows.”

“Well no wonder. Can you imagine Sn -- Professor Snape sitting down and watching a cooking show?”

“I guess not,” Hermione giggled. “Well, he’s got one now. I suspect a trip to a Muggle kitchen supply store is on slate for the weekend. He was making noises about seeing what else was available that he hadn’t thought of using.”

“There you go, showing your Master up on the first day.” Neville rolled his eyes. “I’m not sure why I expected anything else.”

“All the same, I’ll be happy to avoid rutabagas for awhile.  I’ve already been deemed the lab labeler since I have better handwriting. I need to talk to Filius about creating some charms to make things a bit easier in there.”

“You’re going to end up revolutionizing potions by organizing your lab, aren’t you?”

She shot Neville a sly look under her lashes. “Maybe.”

Neville laughed again before launching into a description of his day with Pomona as the walked back toward the castle and toward their respective rooms. Once they reached their wing, he turned toward Hermione. “Hey, I’m supposed to floo-call Ron tonight. Catch you tomorrow at breakfast, yeah?”

“Sure, Neville. I have some reading to do anyway. Severus gave me two new books and wants them read by Monday.”

“Not taking it easy on you, is he?” Neville looked a little concerned.

“If I wanted easy, I would have applied for work at the Ministry. Don’t worry about me, Nev. I’m right where I want to be.”

“Course you are, ‘Minoe.” He leaned in and gave her a quick peck on the forehead. “Have a good night.” 

 

✿HG/SS✿

 

Once back in her rooms, Hermione stripped off her robes and changed into her comfiest pyjamas. Never mind that the bottoms had little green frogs on a violent purple background -- they were her oldest and softest sleep pants, and she wouldn’t part with them for the world. She pulled on a lightweight vest top and brewed a pot of tea in her little kitchenette. Finally she pulled out the modified Discman that she’d been tinkering with for the past few months off the shelf and set it on the table, popping in one of the new CDs she’d acquired in London before coming back to Hogwarts.

It was a long-understood fact that electronic devices didn’t work around magic. Something about electricity and magical currants just fried circuitry and made a general mess of things. However, Hermione wanted to be able to listen to her music -- Muggle music -- while at Hogwarts for months on end. After seven years at Hogwarts, she’d found the lack of current music nearly oppressive, so after much trial and error (and four fried Discmans), she’d finally managed to make the device read a CD and run magically. This had two benefits: She didn’t need headphones as the sound would project directly from the device and into the room. She also didn’t need batteries, as the little CD player was running off her magic.

And so Hermione settled in for the night in her favorite pyjamas, with her favorite tea, and listening to her (current) favorite CD as she started in on her new reading assignment. Without noticing, she began to hum along with the music, singing the chorus to Lisa Loeb’s “Furious Rose” as she leafed through the second chapter.

She was jolted out of her cozy nook when a pounding sounded at her door.  She rushed forward and opened it to discover a rather irate Severus Snape, wrapped in a bathrobe and scowling at her.

“What is that caterwauling?”

Her eyes widened. She’d forgotten the silencing wards on the walls.

“I’m so sorry! I forgot to charm the walls to keep the sound in. I hope I didn’t disturb you too much, Severus.”

“Miss Gr -- Hermione. I am standing at your door at ten in the evening. Of course you bloody disturbed me! Turn that nonsense off this instant!”

She quickly flicked her hand toward the Discman to pause the song. “I’m sorry, again. I’ll be more careful in the future so I won’t disturb you.”

He harrumphed, but peered over her shoulder and toward the sofa where the Discman and her book sat. “See that you are. How did you manage to get that dreck to play in the castle anyway?”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh! I charmed a portable CD player to read discs magically and amplify them so I could --. Um. CDs are like little plastic pancakes that contain digitally encoded music files and --”

“I know what a blasted CD is, Granger.” Snape rolled his eyes. “I just wanted to know how you got the thing to work here. May I?” He gestured toward the coffee table.

“Oh, of course. Come in.” She glanced down at her pyjama-clad form and suddenly remembered she wasn’t wearing a bra. “Um...make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.” She raced toward the bath to grab her bathrobe off the hook and belt it tightly at the waist, effectively obscuring her figure from view. When she reentered the sitting room, she saw Snape sitting on her sofa and waving his wand over her CD player. 

“This is bloody clever,” he said, peering at the little machine. “Could you charm another one to work?”

“I could, but it would be better to just teach you the charm. It runs off magic, and you need to maintain a low-grade connection to the machine to make it run. Oh, and you have to remove some of the circuitry, otherwise the entire thing breaks.

“Fascinating. I’ll acquire a CD player of my own this weekend when we’re in Muggle London. It would be nice to have some music of my own to listen to, since I wasn’t able to spend much time at my estate this summer.” He glanced at her, then looked away, suddenly realizing just where he was.  “My apologies. I did not intend to invade your quarters so precipitously. I should leave you to your reading.”

“Um, it’s alright. I’m sorry my music interrupted your evening.”

“Yes, well. If you’re going to listen to women whinging about loves lost, kindly silence your quarters. Not everyone shares your penchant for melodic heartbreak.”

“I’ll do my best.”

He stepped out the open door before glancing back. “Oh, I’ve decided that we  _ are _ going to London this weekend. Between the kitchen store and the music store, it seems I have a number of items to acquire. We’ll leave at 9am on Saturday morning.”

“I’ll be ready, Severus. Have a good night.” 

“And you.” He nodded, then walked back down the hall toward his own rooms.

_ Amazing. _ Hermione thought.  _ Even his bathrobe swishes in his wake _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. Work is bloody killing me, guys (summer is our shortest and heaviest dev cycle). That's why these chapters are taking so long. I'm really sorry and I'm going to keep plugging away, but until late August chapters might take a bit longer than they used to.


	8. Circus Shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Snape go shopping. Yes, shopping. What?

At five to nine on Saturday morning, Hermione knocked on the worn and darkened oak of Snape’s office door after taking the shortcut through their respective laboratory spaces. His terse reply of “Come in, Miss Granger” drew her into the room, where she found Snape fussing with the collar of his black, muggle style button-down shirt.

Hermione paused, somewhat taken aback by her mentor in Muggle clothing. “Um, I’m ready to go whenever you are, Severus.”

“Good. I hate these blasted collars,” he muttered, giving it up for a lost cause and leaving it undone at the throat. It occurred to Hermione that, though he was more than adequately clothed in the long-sleeved shirt, black jeans, and black lace up shoes, that she’d never seen her professor in such a state of undress. If one could call a scant two inches of exposed neck as undressed. He’d even drawn his hair off his face with a small leather tie. Snape looked downright...approachable. How disconcerting. 

The man in question shot a glance at his apprentice. He nodded his head in approval at her choice of jeans and a blue t-shirt with a reproduction of Hokusai’s  _ The Wave _ on it. “Good, I see you’re dressed for Muggle London as well. I assume you’ve a shop in mind for kitchen supplies.” Hermione nodded and shifted her purse crosswise over her her body. “Excellent. Let’s go.” 

They appeared at a Ministry approved point near Hyde Park, from which Hermione led Snape up Queensway and toward Notting Hill. They stopped outside a smallish shop called “Kitchen Ideas” and Hermione quickly preceded her mentor into the small airconditioned shop. 

She watched as the professor’s eyes grew wide at the tall shelves stacked to overflowing with pots, pans, containers, utensils, and tools galore. “Sweet Merlin,” he breathed. “How are we ever to leave?”

Hermione giggled. “You sound just like my father whenever we come here. He loves this store.”

As if breaking out of a trance, Severus glanced down at her abruptly and straightened. “Your father enjoys cooking, Hermione?”  

She nodded. “He does. He’s good at it, too. Not chef quality or anything, but he makes lovely meals for the family. He does most of the cooking, actually.”

He looked surprised at this. “Your father is the caretaker? I thought Muggle families were similar to wizarding families in that the female partner generally cares for the home.” They’d ventured further into the store; he was trailing his fingers over a set of stainless steel prep cups and making little hums of appreciation. Hermione handed him a shopping basket.

“Maybe fifty years ago,” she shrugged, “but times are changing. I mean, there are still a lot of women who stay at home or take care of most of the household chores, but a lot of couples split the responsibility. My parents do -- Dad cooks, Mum does the dishes. Dad dusts, Mum hoovers. They both do their own laundry, and I did my own whenever I was home during the hols. They both work in the garden. It’s all very equitable.”

Snape’s brow furrowed as he pondered this. “Yes. I can see how that is more fair. Both your parents work outside the home, I believe?”

“Yes. They’ve a dental practice together, so they both work rather long hours.”

He could well imagine it. His apprentice was the product of ambitious, perhaps occasionally inattentive, but obviously highly intelligent Muggles. Perhaps her own hyper assertive need for organization and logic stemmed from spending her formative years in such an environment.

He glanced back and spotted her counting out exactly thirty-seven prep containers into her basket.  _ Definitely a case of nurture and nature there, Severus.  _ Hermione nudged at his elbow and handed him a fine lemon zester. Just the thing for Mandrake root extract. He raised an eyebrow and added it to his own basket. Perhaps having a somewhat anal-retentive, Muggle-born apprentice could be useful for more than just brewing.

They spent a happy two hours in the kitchen supply store, each filling multiple baskets with assorted pestles in ceramic and stone, prep cups in ceramic and steel and plastic, ramekins, graters, zesters, planers, and knives (Snape was particularly taken with a the shape of the santoku blade and was considering commissioning one in silver). The man had even bought two egg toppers. House elves served his breakfast nearly every day, but the good professor felt the need to purchase a device to pull the tops off his soft-boiled eggs.

Naturally, one was a gift for Dumbledore. 

Hermione purchased a set of nested cat teacups and a lovely eight cup teapot that had koi swimming on it. She fancied that her cups would be ‘watching’ the koi as she sipped tea in the evenings. That drew an amused sneer from her mentor until she pointed that yes she  _ had _ noticed that he’d hidden the Loch Ness ladle at the bottom of his basket and he wasn’t one to judge.

He bought the teapot and cups for her as a housewarming gift...and a bribe to remain silent on the subject of ‘Nessie’. 

When Hermione caught the combined total of their haul, she could only be grateful that it was covered under the auspices of laboratory supplies. They managed to lug their purchased down the street to a small alleyway and shrink the lot before placing each of the shrunken bags into Hermione’s cross-body purse. A quick assessment of their general hunger decided their next destination, and they quickly made their way East -- away from the hordes barreling toward Notting Hill and the sites of Portabello Road -- and toward a small middle eastern cafe wedged between a pub and a bookstore. Hermione paid for their lunch -- brick fired, folded pizzas covered in homemade cheese, spiced lamb, and some sort of tomato sauce that tasted anything but Italian and Oranginas -- and they ate companionably enough as they watched tourists reading maps in the hustle and bustle of London high summer. The spoke little, but Snape seemed content enough to sip his drink and relax in the warm English sun.

Finally he finished his drink and dabbed at his mouth. “Right. A music store next?” He looked at Hermione questioningly. 

“Sure. You’re going to hate this part though.”

He looked at her questioningly. “Really? Why?”

She snickered a bit. “Because music stores are  _ loud _ . Come on.”

She took him to the HMV on Oxford Street and watched as he winced at the loud rap music pounding through the store speakers. 

“Why did you bring me here?” he asked. “This music is terrible!”

“I brought you here because they have a huge selection of music and because they sell Discmen. See those stations?” Hermione gestured toward the listening stations posted in each of the genre sections. “You can listen to some of the music. I don’t know what kind you like.”

“Well it’s not this bollocks!” Snape snarled. He stormed off toward the back of the store and landed himself in the jazz section. Hermione watched a moment longer until he settled in at one of the listening stations and snatched up the headphones. After a couple of jabs at the buttons on the dais he was listening to his selection with apparent relief. Hermione glanced at the selection: Yosuke Yamashita’s  _ Kurdish Dance _ . So Japanese jazz pianists okay, rap music definitely not okay. Good to know.

Cute kitchen accessories okay. Knowledge of said accessories not okay.

Severus Snape certainly was an odd duck.

With a mental shrug, Hermione wandered off toward the personal CD players. She located the matching make and model to her own and grabbed it and a hand basket, then returned to Snape and placed both in his hands. Then she wandered off to make some of her own selections. The little windfall from her Order of Merlin was still largely untouched, and Hermione thought she might allow herself to have a bit of fun with it.

Snape found her in the Alt Rock section with a full basket of CDs nearly an hour later. His own basket was nearly overflowing with his selections, so he refrained from passing comment. Instead he nodded toward the CD she held in her hand. “That album seems appropriate considering your normal choice of companions.” Hermione colored; she was holding an album entitled  _ I’m with Stupid _ . 

“Hardly fair, Severus. After all, these days I spend most of my time with you, don’t I? By the way, you’ll want to put these four back. Those are DVDs. They won’t work in a CD player. Now let’s go.” With a toss of her hair over her shoulder, she marched toward the counter to pay for her purchases. Hermione smiled at the clerk as she handed him the credit card her parents had helped her secure the previous year, paying little attention to total of her purchases as she fumed.

_ Yes. Snape can be a git. No, he doesn’t particularly like Harry or Ron. I knew that. But we all fought in the war. Hell, Harry killed Voldemort. I wish he would stop insulting them every five minutes. Or at least refrain from insulting them to my face. How would he feel if I insulted his friends? Wait. Does he have any friends? I mean, there’s Dumbledore, but he’s his boss.  _

She was still mulling when he joined her at the door after making his own purchases. Snape looked neither chagrined nor particularly repentant for his rude remarks about Harry and Ron. She couldn’t help but wonder if his comments about her friends were meant to be construed as banter. It bore further thinking. Either way, Hermione realized that she was going to need to grow a thicker skin around her acerbic Potions mentor.

With a small sigh, she turned back toward her professor. “What else is on our agenda for today?”

“I understand that there is an impressive bookstore nearby?”

“You probably mean Waterstones. Yeah, they’re right up the road. There are a bunch of them, actually, but this one has a good selection.” 

They left the store and walked in silence. Again. Hermione wondered if the man ever spoke, or if he simply spent his time in a contemplative silence. It’s not that she minded silence, really. She certainly didn’t see much of it when around Harry or the Weasleys (and really, was there one without the other these days?), but she thought that perpetual silence might become a bit wearing over time. 

As they approached Waterstones, Hermione finally decided she needed a break from oppressive silence and terse comments. “Actually, I really shouldn’t get any more books at the moment -- I ordered a fair few before leaving for Hogwarts and if I go in there I’ll just get more. Do you mind if I pop down to Selfridges? I need to pick up a few things that I wasn’t able to get while the press were on our doorstep.”

Severus looked surprised, but nodded his head. “Shall we meet there in two hours? I believe they do some form of tea there, if I remember correctly.”

Hermione nodded. “They do. I can put in a reservation for us when I get there. Um...meet me in the café at three?”

With a tight nod of his own, Severus turned and entered the store. Hermione doubled back and headed toward the grand white edifice of Selfridges. 

She felt comforted almost as soon as she entered the old building. Trips to Selfridges had been a treat that Hermione enjoyed with her grandmother every summer until shortly before her death the previous year. The familiar mingling scents of the perfume counter and the clack of heels on the tiled floors made her feel nostalgic for a childhood that had ended all too soon, and for family connections that often felt tenuous at best. Shaking her head at her own maudlin thoughts, Hermione rushed over to the café to place a reservation -- she was lucky and there had been a cancellation, so there was no need to confund the maitre’d -- before taking herself for a stroll around the store.

She hadn’t told Snape the full truth. She didn’t really need anything specific from the store, though she should probably pick up a few necessaries as long as she was here. She was content to wander rather than engage in the frenzied spending they’d indulged in throughout the morning.

Without thinking about it, Hermione found herself in the shoe section. Shoes had always been a bit of a personal weakness as they didn’t have the tendency to shrink after repeated washing like her jeans, but she’d been unable to indulge herself much as a Hogwarts student. What was the point in owning gorgeous pumps when her lace-up Oxfords were standard wear with her uniform?  Hermione thought that now might be high time to indulge in a couple pairs of shoes without worry for their use or practicality. She could always charm them for comfort.

She traced her hands over a simple pair of black pumps with a tall, chunky heel and hidden platform. They had lovely, simple lines and looked almost like something worn in the 40s. If 40s shoes had extended to 5” in height. She decided immediately that she was having them. And the forest green velvet pumps with the ankle strap. Ooh. And those plum wedges. Yes she was definitely having those. Wandering through the clearance section, she some practical shoes for long brewing sessions and decided to have those as well. Four pairs of shoes wasn’t  _ too _ over-the-top, and at least one pair was practical. She could admit to herself that she feel better for buying something some that were completely frivolous.

Hermione found herself wishing, not for the first time, that wizarding households had embraced the telephone. She could have rung Ginny to join her for a couple of hours. Spending a nearly silent day with Snape had her wound tight enough that she’d felt the need to escape him for a bit, but Ginny’s chattering and cheerful nature would have helped dispel the funk clouding her mood faster than any number of shoes. 

With some resignation, Hermione walked toward the lingerie department. She might as well pick up new bras and knickers while she was here, since she wasn’t sure when she’d next be able to get into London. If she understood the brewing agenda that Snape had set her, she’d be busy from until the start of term...and who knew how busy teaching would keep her.

With another sigh of longing, she imagined Ginny there with her, laughing at her choice of the three pack of multi-colored knickers Hermione was currently holding. Plain bras and plain cotton knickers were her norm. Practical underclothes for a practical woman. A logical woman. The thought made her itch between the shoulder blades.

She’d fought against Voldemort. She’d taken down Death Eaters against horrible odds and saved her friends. Hermione Granger wasn’t a dull person, so why was her underwear so deadly serious? Sure, it wasn’t like anyone would ever see it, but why should she have something pretty and feminine in that top draw of her bureau? A glance to the juniors section revealed yet another longed-for rebellion.  Decisions made, Hermione replaced the cotton knickers and head straight toward the lace. She was going to buy her pretty knickers and then...then she was going to have a little fun. 

 

✿HG/SS✿

 

By the time three rolled around, Hermione was several hundred pounds poorer and her head was spinning from the rapidity with which she’d made several life altering decisions. It was almost as though Ginny were living in her head and prodding her into making what might be considered some very silly life decisions.

Hermione now had lovely, lacy knickers and bras.

She had some very sexy, very high-heeled shoes.

And she’d acquired a tattoo.  

She grimaced a little as her jeans chafed at the plastic wrap the tattoo artist had placed over the cherry blossom branch snaking across her left hipbone. She ducked behind a rack of clothing and performed a quick sticking charm to ensure the rough denim didn’t rub against her new body art for the rest of the day. Thank goodness she’d be back in her more voluminous robes tomorrow.

She rushed over to the café just as Snape was coming down the escalators with what appeared to be half of Waterstone’s crammed into four rather flimsy plastic bags. With a silent chuckle, Hermione thought it nice to know that he had just as little self-control in a bookstore as she did.

“Hello, Severus!” she greeted him in a much better mood than she’d been in previously. She turned toward the maitre’d. “Good afternoon. We’ve a reservation for three o’clock. Granger.”

“Yes, Miss Granger. This way please.” The little man, who Hermione thought resembled Hercule Poirot in those mystery shows her mother liked, escorted them to a small booth in the sunny veranda room of the café. Within moments they were served with a pot of Selfridges famous tea and a tray of delicious tea sandwiches, scones, and eclairs. Hermione sighed happily.

“I take it you’ve been here before?” asked Snape as she bit into a lobster filled finger roll.

“I have. With my Granny Granger. We used to come every summer and go on a girl’s spree. She’d spoil me rotten for the afternoon, then we’d have tea. Mum isn’t really into the girly stuff -- shopping or makeup or any of that. It was all Gran. She took me for my first makeover, found me my dress for the Yule ball. All of it. I’ve missed that with her.” 

“Is she no longer with your family?”

“No, she died about eighteen months ago. Dad took it really hard. He was an only child and his father passed years ago. Gran was his last family.” She set her sandwich down and concentrated on meticulously cleaning her fingers of salad bits.

Snape doctored his tea and raised the cup for a sip. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks.”

Their habitual silence descended once again as they applied themselves to the light meal. Finally, Snape spoke again.

“Did you find what you needed here?”

“Hmm? Oh. Um, yes. I did. And then some.” She colored a bit when she thought of just  _ what  _ she’d acquired. 

He regarded her curiously. “What was so necessary that you couldn’t send away for it?” 

“Just...lady stuff. And some shoes. I can never resist shoes, and they had some lovely pumps that I couldn’t resist.” She smiled at him ruefully.

“How very stereotypically female of you, Granger. You surprise me.” He chuckled a bit as he spread clotted cream onto his scone.

Hermione bristled at his tone. “What, just because I’ve reigned as swot supreme for the past seven years, I’m not allowed to be a woman too? I happen to  _ like _ stereotypically feminine things. I just didn’t have much use for them while I was a student. Now that I’ve graduated, I can indulge a bit.”

He sneered. “That is, of course, your choice. I only ask that you keep any frivolous purchases out of the laboratory. The last thing I need is to catch a heel in a loose stone and dump a cauldron on yourself.”

“I believe I know better than to wear heels in the lab, Severus. When have I ever acted irresponsibly in your class?” she grumbled.

“You have not, to my recollection, ever done so. Unless you were pilfering ingredients from my stores, but I will discount that particular incident. If you had demonstrated any penchant for irresponsibility in the potions classroom, I would not have invited you to serve as an apprentice. Don’t works yourself into a tizzy, Granger. I was merely speaking in jest.”

“Your jests need work.”

He snorted. “Very likely.”

Of course he thought her responsible. That was why she was teamed so closely with Ron and Harry -- to keep them from being  _ too  _ rash. She served as the natural dampener on their Gryffindor impulsiveness. Though, honestly, after all these years her role rather rankled. Just once she wanted to be as brash and irresponsible as they. Hence the tattoo. At least now she had a reminder -- even if it was a superficial one -- that she was free to make her own decisions now that Voldemort was dead. And that she could live a little, even if no one else knew about it.

Suddenly she realized that she’d be unable to keep her frivolous decisions out of the lab. Both the knickers and the tattoo were bound to be rather permanent fixtures in her life. She stifled a giggle at the thought.

Snape looked up from his tea. “What, Granger?”

“Just a stray thought. Sorry.”

“As you refuse to tell me, I can only assume your amusement is at my expense.”

“Of course not!” She glanced away quickly and applied herself to refreshing her tea. “Are you going to eat that other scone?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long break in writing. Today is the first day in awhile that I've been able to see straight. I had a BAD allergic reaction to a BBQ experience this weekend (ragweed? bug bite? who knows!) and my left eye swelled up so badly that I literally could not see out of it. My new nickname at the office is Quasimodo.
> 
> This is admittedly a weird chapter. I had a little trouble writing it, despite the fact that I friggen love writing shopping scenes. (Like Hermione, I rather enjoy my feminine side. And shoes. And makeup.)
> 
> Fun facts: All these stores are real and I actually took the time to map them and figure out walking distances. (Sadly, Waterstones in Oxford St. is permanently closed now). I've never done tea at Selfridges, so I hope I got those details right. I did, however, get my first tattoo in juniors section of that store, which was definitely an odd experience. I got the tattoo for reasons similar to Hermione -- it was my first real rebellion and a demonstration of my right to do what I want to my own body, when I wanted to. No regrets.
> 
> I have taken the liberty of anachronizing the Nessie ladle that I described from Kitchen Ideas. I saw that floating around on Tumblr a few days ago and have decided that Sev needed it. Just go with me, I have plans for that plot detail.
> 
> I often pepper my fics with actual items I like or own. The teapot I described is actually the first I purchased for my apartment here in the Twin Cities when I moved here eight years ago. It still holds tea each time I sit down to write and has seen me through countless papers, my dissertation, and nearly every chapter of each fic I've worked on. Said teapot has a place of pride on my Tumblr page, which you can visit if you feel so inclined.
> 
> persnicketyfics. tumblr. com/ fics (Don't forget to remove the spaces.)


	9. Blossoms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little wrap up from the shopping trip, and Hermione gives Snape a CD player that works at Hogwarts.

“Hermione! You’re back! Um, hello Professor.” Neville rose from a bench under the large wych elm that marked the Southern end of the Hogwarts summer gardens, smiling awkwardly as he saw Snape and his apprentice trudging back up the path from the apparition point. 

Snape turned toward his apprentice. “I have some things to see to for our work on Monday. If I may have my bags, Gr -- Hermione?” He cleared his throat awkwardly as he returned to the use of her given name.

“Oh, of course.” She dug into her purse and began to pull out miniaturized bags. They’d stayed in Selfridges for another hour after tea. Snape had been as fascinated by the shoe department as she, which was a fact she found oddly disturbing. She thought he might have spent too much time around his godson. The man had bought four pair of black boots. She glanced at Neville and saw his eyes widen in appreciation as she pulled at least ten shrunken bags out of her tiny purse and handed them to her mentor. 

Snape mumbled his thanks before tucking his bags into his shirt and jean pockets. “I need to prepare the lab for our work on Monday. I will see you at dinner tonight. Longbottom.” He nodded to the dirt-covered man and continued his way up the path.

Hermione plopped down on Neville’s recently vacated bench. “We bought out London today. I’m knackered.”

“I’ll say. How long were you at it?”

“What time is it? We left just after nine.”

If possible, Neville’s eyes became even more saucer-like. “You’ve been shopping in Muggle London for  _ eight hours  _ and Snape hasn’t imploded?” He shot another glance at the disappearing back of the Potions Master. “Did you dose him with a calming draught first?”

She giggled and leaned her head on his shoulder. “Nope. He was totally into it. Or as into it as you could ever imagine Professor Snape being. He was decidedly...companionable. We even had tea together and conversed. Like adults.” She shook her head in bewilderment. “He’s actually been quite conciliatory since I started my internship. It hasn’t been bad at all.”

“Well if anyone could get along with Snape, I suppose it’d be you.” He shrugged.

“What d’you mean by that?”

“Ron actually said it the night before we left Grimmauld. You two are a lot alike, really. All books and studying and seriousness. And woe betide anyone who pisses either of you off.” He flushed as he realized what he’d just said. “ I mean, not that you’re nasty like he is.”

Her smile soured a bit at tht. “I can be, though. I still don’t think Marietta has forgiven me for fifth year. Though the spots  _ did _ clear up. Eventually.”

Neville breathed out a half-laugh. “Right.” He’d actually been thinking of Umbridge’s sojourn with the centaurs. He’d hated the woman as much as anyone, but he still couldn’t believe Hermione had actually given the woman up to the creatures. He shot a glance at his friend again.  _ She  _ is _ muggleborn. Maybe she didn’t realize those myths about the centaurs were actually _ true.  _ Hell, even wizards didn’t always believe it. Dumbledore hired one as a teacher, for Merlin’s sake!  _ He’d already received some rather dire warnings from Pomona to avoid venturing too far into the forest unless Hagrid accompanied him. “Just be careful that you don’t pick up all his bad habits, yeah? I’d hate for your students to say ‘Granger’ with as much fear as they say ‘Snape.’”

Hermione was tempted to laugh it off until she saw that Neville was serious in his cautionary statement. “You have a point. Poke me if I start heading that way, yeah?”

His smile was genuine when he reached out to drape an arm over her shoulder. “Just don’t hex me if I do!” He leaned his head back against the trunk of the tree and looked at the fading light through its leafy branches. “So you get any good loot when you and Snape were out today?”

“Did I ever! But this might be the best.” She tugged down the left side of her denims and showed him her tattoo under its protective kitchen wrap.

Neville stared at her a full thirty seconds before asking, “What potion was I making the last time I blew up a cauldron?”

She blinked. “What? Amortentia. Why?”

“Just making sure you weren’t some polyjuiced version of yourself. I can’t believe you got a tattoo! Is that a plum branch?”

“Cherry. My parents have a cherry tree in their garden. The branches always shaded my window in the spring. Every Easter break I’d go home and it’d be blooming right outside my bedroom window. It’s the scent of my childhood.” She shrugged, realizing that her explanation was inadequate at best. Her tattoo summed up so much more than a nostalgic longing for a childhood that had ended far too early. It was a rebellion against her role as the rule maker, a temporary leave taking of responsibility, an edgy decision that few would ever know about. And it was pretty. It made her  _ feel  _ pretty. It was a mark -- not that she didn’t have enough of those already, thank you dear Bellatrix -- but it was one she had chosen for herself and one she would wear with private pride.

Neville smiled a bit. “I like it,” he said. “ _ Prunus avium _ . Their symbolism is rather bittersweet; fragility and beauty in one. The ones we cultivate here are used in a few potions, I think. And Pomona prefers them as a tea base.”

Hermione sighed. She knew Neville would understand. “I don’t really want to advertise that I have it.”

“Of course not. Not very professorial.”

“Gods, could you imagine if I had gotten it someplace visible? Minerva would have conniptions.” She giggled a bit at the thought.

“Minerva? Try Snape!”

“Professor Snape, Neville. And why would he care? He has a tattoo.”

Neville made a little noise of distaste. “Yeah, but he kinda regretted that one, didn’t he? At least yours won’t burn on occasion and call you to the side of an insane overlord.”

She grimaced. “Point taken.” She rose and brushed off the seat of her pants. “Come on. Dinner’s soon and you’ve got to scrape some of that mud off of you, yeah? I can tell I’m going to spend most of the rest of the night hauling my new goodies around the lab.” She mentally rubbed her hands together at the prospect.

“You know, ‘Mione, I think you’re almost as excited about new equipment as you get about textbooks.”

“Oh, Neville, you know me so well. If you weren’t already taken I’d nab you in a minute. Ron’s a lucky bloke.”

“‘Couse he is. Let’s go in. I’m half-starved. Pomona had me digging Chinese Chomping Cabbages this afternoon. I swear half the dirt is from diving to get away from their mouths!”

Arm in arm, the laughing friends made their way into the castle.

 

✿HG/SS✿

 

When Hermione and Neville entered the Great Hall that evening, they saw that the table had a rather large bouquet of flowers at its center.

“Hermione, my dear!” Minerva said once they’d stepped into the hall. “We were wondering when you’d arrive. You never said you had an admirer!” The older woman practically burbled as Hermione sat down at the table.

Hermione groaned. She’d moving to Hogwarts would remove her from the reach of her mystery admirers. “Is there a card?” she asked with some trepidation.

Minerva merely plucked the small pink florist’s envelope from the flowers and handed it to the younger woman.

_ “Wherever you are, I will always love you. You looked beautiful getting on the train, your hair flying in the wind. He will never be enough for you.” _

Hermione made a face and returned the note to its envelope. Minerva cleared her throat delicately. “Well, aren’t you going to tell us who they’re from?”

Hermione shot her a sidelong look. “From one of the nutters Rita Skeeter set on me after the fiasco at the Ministry Ball. As the only unspoken for female hero, I seem to have attracted the attention of some rather desperate and mildly unhinged wizards. And a few witches.” She handed the card to Minerva. “This one is one of the most dedicated. He’s convinced I’m dating Severus -- thank you again, Rita -- and believes that dear Master Snape is just not good enough for me.” She caught Severus’ eye over the blossoms on the table and shot him a sardonic glance that said  _ you see what I have to deal with? “ _ I’d rather hoped that moving to Hogwarts would mean the letters and flowers stopped. It seems I was wrong.”

Snape spoke up then. “Has this -- wizard? -- made any threats against your person?”

“I don’t know if these are from a wizard or a witch, but I’d guess the former. He’s certainly a bit obsessed and his notes have gotten creepier in the last few weeks, but no. He hasn’t made any threats.”

“He mentioned seeing you at the station, Hermione.” Minerva said it with some concern   


“There was a crowd, Minerva.” Neville said. “And it made the papers, thanks to Rita. I get some letters too, but not nearly as many as Hermione. It’s creepy, how all these wizards are after her and they don’t even know her.”

“The price of celebrity,” Severus said sardonically.   


“Just so.” Hermione said, ignoring his sarcasm. “I’ve been through this before. It always dies down. I should probably start filtering my mail. There have been a few howlers with screaming proclamations of undying love. Not the kind of thing I enjoy with my breakfast.”

“I’ll see to it, dear,” Minerva said. “What would you like us to do with the floral gifts?”

“I suppose if the owls don’t detect anything harmful you can distribute them among the professors. If this  _ person _ , animal, mineral, or vegetable, has decided to resume his gift-giving, there will be a bouquet every day.”

“Well that’s very generous of you, my dear.” Pomona chimed in. “Would you mind terribly if I took this bunch? The hydrangeas are sweet, but those white ones are Brazilian plume flowers. Rare and difficult to cultivate, but very useful in wizard pox poultices. I might be able to do something with these in the tropical greenhouse.”

“Be my guest, Pomona.” Hermione waved her hand at the flowers, indicating that the witch was welcome to them before splitting her roll to butter it.

Dinner passed without further mention of the flowers or their mysterious sender, but they remained on the table as a worrying reminder that, even at Hogwarts, Hermione couldn’t escape her own “heroism.”  _ So much for the normality of starting my adult life _ , she thought to herself as she poked at her salad. To a certain extent she could understand why Harry had chafed under the attention that followed The Boy Who Lived everywhere he went.  She mentally shrugged.  _ At least I don’t have a crazed megalomaniac trying to kill me or my friends. _

Her thoughts turned instead to the work that she would be doing over the coming week. She had a large number of potions to brew, but if she kept six cauldrons going at once she should be able to finish inside of a week.  She’d need a few hours to go through the stores and make sure all of the necessary components were in order, but she suspected that Snape had acquired all that she’d need far in advance of his return to Hogwarts that summer. She sighed. It was going to be rather a boring week in the laboratory. 

She did have her private lessons with Minerva, Filius, and Pomona to look forward to, and by August she would be able to add Professors Vector, Sinistra, and Babbling to her growing list of private tutors. It was going to be a busy summer!

Perhaps she could convince Minerva to work with her on a few advanced Transfiguration techniques. While not officially a part of her apprenticeship curriculum, she’d been rather intrigued with human transfiguration. They’d only just brushed the basic theory in seventh year, but she thought she might convince Minerva to work with her on the side and perhaps even try her wand at animagus transformation. It might be worth it to ask

 

✿HG/SS✿

 

“Oh, my dear! I don’t think we should add any more responsibilities to your plate just yet, do you? Hasn’t Severus given you enough work already?” Minerva’s eyes twinkled at Hermione over the tea service the next afternoon. 

Hermione regarded the biscuit selection as if the decision between shortbread or Jaffa cake were the most important thing she’d do all day. “He’s been very dutiful in that respect, Minerva. But I’m living in a castle with some of the greatest academic wizarding minds in Europe. I would be a fool not to take advantage of that!” She bit into her Jaffa cake with relish.

“I should have known you’d be asking for extra work before the week was out,” Minerva said with an indulgent smile. “I’ll make you a deal, Hermione. Come to me again after the winter holiday. If you feel you can add twice weekly lessons on human transfiguration to your plate after your first semester of teaching, then I’ll take you on. I’ll urge you to consider it carefully, though. Animagus transformation is not to be taken lightly, and once we begin training in earnest, you will have a difficult time of it. Many wizards and witches never master the skill, try as they might.”

“I understand. And even if I’m only gaining a theoretical knowledge of advanced transfiguration, it will still be well worth it. Thank you for even considering it.”

“Of course, my dear. No one will ever accuse you of allowing the grass to grow beneath your feet. Now tell me, how is your work with Severus going?”

“Well, we’ve barely begun! But it’s going well, I think. He’s certainly thought through the curriculum enough. I finished all the books he assigned -- he just sniffed and handed me more! I’m swimming in potions theory, which is a lot more fun than I’ve just made it sound. And he was very receptive about some suggestions I made about technique in the lab. He’s using some Muggle kitchen tools to prepare some of the ingredients now.”

“Yes, Neville told me of your little excursion to London yesterday. I can hardly believe you convinced Severus to go.” The older witch’s eyes widened in mock astonishment.

Hermione laughed. “It was his idea! Honestly, the man is a champion shopper. No dithering or dawdling like some I could name.” She fake coughed out the name  _ Draco _ into her hand and sipped her tea with a smirk. “He just cuts a swath through the store and leaves a Snape-shaped hole in the wall and a handful of pounds on the counter. It’s impressive.”

“Hm. Perhaps you inspire him, dear.”

“Perhaps,” Hermione replied with a grin. “We spent quite a lot of time in the music store, actually. I had no idea he was a fan.”

“Oh, he always was. He used to play Muggle records on a phonograph in his room when he was a student. Drove his head of house mad! Wretched stuff, it was.  All the bands had the oddest names. Pink Lloyd and something about Deaf Leopards.”

Hermione snickered. “I think you mean Pink Floyd and Def Leppard. I had no idea Severus liked rock. I’ll have a bit of a collection of the older stuff myself. I’ll have to see if we can compare notes.”

“Now that’s a conversation I’d like to see.”

“You have a point. I can’t really see him debating the merits of Led Zeppelin over Queen with me, can you? At least, not while sober.”  
  
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Hermione, but I’ll take your word for it!” the older witch laughed. “I’m just glad to hear that Severus has been treating you well. He’s less anxious now that He Who Must Not Be Named is gone, but he did have a hard time of it for a few years. It’s nice to see him able to pursue his interests without the proverbial sword of Damocles hanging over his head.”

Hermione murmured her agreement into her teacup. “Though the Ministry has been rather annoying, I understand. They want the formula for the potion he concocted to use against Voldemort so they can make their own. He’s refusing to give it to them.”

“As well he should!” Minerva said with vehemence. “Not only is it his proprietary creation, it is also a dangerous thing to give the Ministry to use with impunity. I’m glad he’s standing fast on that one. Be warned, my girl, they will try to get it through you.”

“He’s already intimated as much. It helps that I know nothing about it, so I have nothing to give them. Not that I would, of course!” Hermione added hastily.

“Of course. Now, as much as I’ve enjoyed our tea, I believe you have precious few hours of free time before we put you and Neville to work again tomorrow! Go out and enjoy some of the summer sun while it lasts. You’ll be wintering down in those freezing dungeons soon enough!”

Hermione stood and surreptitiously brushed the crumbs from her skirt, then stepped forward to brush her lips against her former Head of House -- and now friend’s -- cheek. “Thank you for the tea, Minerva. Can we do this again next week?”

“I’ll be very upset if we don’t.”

 

✿HG/SS✿

 

It was nearing ten when Hermione knocked on the door to Snape’s quarters that night. The door opened quickly, exposing a rather relaxed professor in sleep pants and a bathrobe. She bit her lip to contain the smirk at the tattered and unbelievably fuzzy slippers on his feet. 

“Granger. What on earth are you doing here? Have you melted a cauldron already?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Hardly. I came to give you this. I’ve finished setting it up for you.” She held out the Diskman he’d purchased in London the day before. “I’ll need to show you the spell to use it, though.”

His other eyebrow rose to the same height of the first, giving him an expression of almost startled delight. “Well, that was quick. Thank you.” He took the little CD player from her and stepped away from the door. “Come in and take a seat.”

Hermione looked around his rooms curiously as she stepped inside. She had thought they’d be of similar size and set-up as her own, but was surprised to find them larger and airier than her own small quarters. His sitting room was easily twice the size of hers and could have doubled as a side wing of the Hogwarts library. She had to remind herself to behave and not rush headlong toward the towering shelves of books.

“Please refrain from drooling on my collection, Hermione,” Snape said with some humor in his voice.

That gave Hermione pause. She could not remember  _ ever _ hearing that kind of warmth in her mentor’s voice before. All these changes in his demeanor were confusing.

“Sorry. It’s just wonderful.” She made a little motion with her hands for lack of a more definite gesture. “How do you ever bring yourself to leave this room?”

“Easily,” he smirked.  “At regular intervals I have to go out and acquire more books.” 

“A compulsion I understand all too well,” she said with a smile. “Right. The Diskman.”

“Take a seat.” He gestured toward the brocade settee -- green, of course -- just as the kettle began to shrill. “I was just making tea. Can I offer you a cup?”

“Thank you. That would be lovely.” Her voice sounded stilted to even her ears. It was painfully obvious that she’d interrupted a nighttime ritual for her mentor. An open book lay on the footstool in front of an overstuffed leather armchair near the fire. An empty snifter sat on a small table. And he was clearly in his pyjamas.  _ Could I have called at a more awkward time? _

She glanced at the well-worn book on the footstool. “You’re reading Pratchett?” she said incredulously.

“What was that?” he called from the back of the room.

She rose and followed the clinking sounds into his kitchen. She was shocked again to find the room was much larger than her own kitchenette. He had a full kitchen with an ancient looking Aga, pots on the ceiling, and what appeared to be an old-fashioned ice box. He looked vaguely embarrassed to see her observing him putting cups and saucers on a tray in a kitchen that obviously saw regular use. 

The Nessie ladle was standing on the counter next to the stove, looking not at all out of place next to a tea towel with a monster on it, shark pot holders, and a turtle tea strainer.

“My goodness. That’s quite the collection,” she said for lack of something better. 

The sneer came back full force. “Back to the sitting room with you, Granger. Or do you always snoop around people’s homes when they’ve invited you in?”

“Sorry, sir.” She scampered back to the settee and frowned into the fire. Pratchett and impractically novel kitchen implements did NOT match with her understanding of Professor Severus T. Snape, Potions Master extraordinaire. They made him all too human for her taste. The next thing you knew, she’d discover he secretly danced around his rooms when no one was looking. Or sang in the shower. 

Impossible.  
  
“I um, was just commenting that you were reading Pratchett. Are you a fan?” she asked nervously.

“Obviously.” He picked up the copy of  _ Mort _ and dog-eared his page (Hermione tried not to wince) before setting it aside. He handed her a cup of tea before taking a seat in his chair.

She sipped at the herbal blend before setting her cup aside. He regarded her balefully as he allowed his own cup to cool. “Right,” she said to break the silence. “The Diskman. Um, I’ve modified it to run off magical power like mine. It runs on basic latin:  _ incipio, desino, incito, recedo _ .” She matched her words to wand movements, jabbing, then flicking her wand up, down, right, and left. “The incantation to power it on is  _ expergisce orchestra compressa _ .” She moved her wand fluidly in three connected, but alternating loops.

Snape glowered at her. “Did you just wave your wand in a treble clef?”

“Yes.” She blushed. “It seemed appropriate and it worked, so hush. Not every spell needs a bloody matrix to work, and this one was relatively simple.”

“Not that simple,” he muttered. If it were that simple, every dormitory would be filled with music day and night. “Do me a favor and don’t show this to the students when they return.”

She blinked at him. “Of course not. None of us would ever sleep if I did that.”

“Exactly my point.” He rolled his eyes and looked at the little CD player. With a flick of his wand, he summoned one of the discs he’d purchased the day before. Sibelius’ third symphony flew into his hand, and he quickly located the open mechanism for the device and slid the disc in. 

Hermione watched as he raised his arm and sneeringly traced the treble clef in the air, then jabbed and flicked his wand upward. He must have been casting nonverbally, because the room was suddenly filled with the sound of strings and horns. Loud strings and horns.

“How do you turn down the volume?” Snape shouted over the din.

“ _ Mollesco!”  _ She spiraled her wand downward and Snape quickly replicated the movement. He, swirling his wand thrice rather than once. The volume lowered to a more reasonable level. “Sorry. I probably should’ve mentioned that one too.”

“Yes,” he said tersely. He stopped the music. “I assume  _ resonus _ and an upward spiral will have the opposite effect?”

She nodded. “And  _ quiesco orchestra compressa  _ to disconnect the machine from your magic. You don’t strictly need to do so if it isn’t playing, but it does mean that the player will stop ‘listening’ for your command.”

He raised his eyebrow again. Clever girl. “Thank you, Hermione. I appreciate your efforts in modifying the machine or my use.”

“You’re welcome, Severus.” They sat in silence for awhile, listening to the symphony play throughout the room. Her professor certainly had eclectic tastes in music -- jazz, classical, and, if Minerva was to be believed, classic rock. She watched him as she sipped her tea again, and found that the man was nearly good looking when he was relaxed.

Shaking her head of such a strange thought, she finished her tea in an inelegant series of gulps and rose. “I should return to my rooms. Thanks for the tea!” 

Snape looked up in surprise. “Of course. It’s rather late. Have a good night, Hermione.” He rose to see her to the door, but she was already wrenching the door open as though the hounds of hell were on her heels.

Snape shook his head. Hermione Granger had always been the oddest of pupils. After casting a thorough  _ muffliato _ charm on his walls and floor, Snape summoned another CD from the pile on his desk. He jabbed and flicked his wand again, then swirled it upward in a fluid motion, grinning as the “Hole in the Sky” echoed through his rooms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a note: This chapter is unbetaed. As such, I make no guarantees that the Latin in it is anywhere near correct. Just go with it. It's magic.
> 
> Update: My wonderful beta got back to me and helped me with the latin bits. Folks, I really stink at latin. So I updated the chapter with the new spells. And cut some ellipses. No other changes.


	10. Waking Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione gets to know her mentor a bit better and Neville eagerly awaits the arrival of his boyfriend in Hogsmeade. 
> 
> Hermione and Snape begin brewing Wolfsbane.

Hermione was beyond excited.

She had finished the last of the basic potions the previous Friday and spent half the weekend in her personal laboratory, brewing for her personal needs for the next year. Severus had promised to begin working with her on more advanced potions today, starting with Wolfsbane. The full moon was only a week away and he’d promised that she could work on the potion alongside him as he worked on Remus’ brew.

As a result, Hermione entered the Great Hall with a bounce in her step that morning. She plopped down next to Neville and began to fill her plate with a full English breakfast before she noticed that her friend seemed to be in a similar state of barely-contained excitement.

“What’s got you so perky this morning?” she asked.

Neville grinned at her. “You’ve just missed the owls and  _ I’ve _ just had an owl from my boyfriend. He’s decided to move to Hogsmeade a bit earlier than expected. He’s taking the apartment above the new shop tomorrow and wants to meet up at day’s end for a drink.”

“That’s wonderful, Nev!” Hermione said, throwing her arms around her friend in an impulsive hug. “I know you’ve missed each other. His last floo call was so full of you I thought I was going to puke.”

Neville blushed and stabbed at his eggs with a bit more force than necessary. “Yeah, well…” he paused. “Um, what did he say?”

Hermione grinned and speared a piece of melon. “Hmm. I could tell you, or I could let you stew in your curiosity for a bit longer.” She hummed to herself as she chewed her breakfast, seemingly content to torture her friend.

“Come on, ‘Mione!” Neville whined good naturedly. “I’d tell you what he said about you if  _ you _ were dating.”

“I shudder to think,” she said dryly. “Well, there was something about you being the  _ best _ kisser, which let me tell you was a bit of an insult to me -- oh, shut your mouth Nev, you know we kissed once.” She stabbed another piece of fruit and chewed contemplatively. “He also said that you wrote him the sweetest letters, that he hoped you were getting some sun this summer because you’d look good with a tan, and something about dirt under your nails being endearing. I won’t even try to understand that one,” she finished with a mock shudder.

Neville’s blush deepened and he smiled down at his toast points. “He really said all that?” her friend asked softly. 

Hermione nodded. “And much, much more that I won’t repeat. He’s completely besotted, Nev. And I’m thrilled for both of you.”

Neville glanced at her with a shy smile. “Thanks, Hermione. I’ve like him for ages, you know, but I always thought that he’d, well,” he made a flailing gesture with one hand, “and you’d. You know.”

“Marry and have lots of babies?” 

Neville nodded.

Hermione shrugged. “I thought so too, until that kiss. He’s just...he’s Ron. He’s one of the two people I love most in this world, but I knew right away I couldn’t be with him like that. I’m just glad he figured it out too, before we hurt each other. I’d hate to lose my best friend.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that. He always asks after you in his letters.”

“Letters?” Hermione asked. “As in, plural? Gods, Neville, it must be love. Do you know how much I had to badger him just to get him to send me  _ a _ letter each summer?” She poked at him to punctuate her teasing. She was amazed as Neville turned an even deeper shade of red. At this rate he’d be able to successfully camouflage himself against the Gryffindor banner.

“It’s only been a few weeks,” he mumbled.

Hermione realized that she was on the verge of teasing Neville into apoplexy and subsided. “Seriously, Nev. I’m happy for you both. You’re lucky to have each other.”

Neville shot her a grateful glance and smiled before returning to his breakfast. After a few minutes, he cleared his throat. “So why’re you in such a great mood this morning? More mystery flowers from your admirer?”

“I did get some, yes, but that’s not why I’m happy. Severus has me brewing Wolfsbane today.” Her voice wrapped around the potion with awe.

He laughed. “Aw, that’s great. I feel the same way every time Pomona introduces me to a new species of plant. We’re starting on the night-blooming orchids this week. Should be fun.”

Hermione grinned at her friend and sipped her tea. “We really are the worst swots aren’t we.”

“Absolutely.” Neville grinned and clinked his mug against hers in swotty solidarity.

  


✿HG/SS✿

  


“Have you separated the dragonfly thoraxes into segments, Hermione?”

“Yes. Glass bowl, next to the powdered doxy eggs.”

Snape nodded as he stirred the brass cauldron in front of him in alternating sets of three clockwise and anticlockwise turns. “Excellent. You should begin preparing the bupleurum stamens. We’ll need thirteen and a half grams. Keep them well away from the powdered eggs; too easy to cross contaminate with the pollen. We’ll be ready for stage four in a quarter hour.” 

Hermione moved across her mentor’s private lab to the far bench and took the bupleurum flowers out of stasis. She picked up a pair of tweezers and began carefully separating the tiny stamens from the each of the small blossoms, taking care not to inhale any of the pollen lest she sneeze and scatter her work across her workspace.

“Tell me, Hermione, what are the properties of Bupleurum.”  
  
“Bupleurum chinense is a flowering root of the Asterid clade, distantly related to potatoes, eggplants, and fennel. It is Asian in origin and has long been used in traditional herbal remedies in the East to treat menstrual problems, loss of appetite, or chills and fever.”

“Yes. And what is its use in Wolfsbane?”

“It combines with Scutellaria, commonly known as Skullcap -- another relative of bupleurum -- to repress chills and fevers. We add it at the seventh stage of brewing in alternating half-gram increments, incorporating with twelve anticlockwise stirs at just below boiling point.” She spoke in rhythm to the clicking of her tweezers.

“A verbatim repetition of the text if I ever heard one, but accurate. Why is the potion kept below boiling point?”

Hermione thought a moment; that part wasn’t in the text. “Well, the billywig stings are highly acidic when combined with troll mucus, so it would be in part to keep the compound solution from becoming unnecessarily agitated, but…”

Snape switched the glass stirring rod for copper, never breaking rhythm. “You’re on the right track, Hermione. Continue the thought.”

“But the skullcap and bupleurum mixture would neutralize the acidity as they’re both basic. So it would half to be to prevent the pollens from clumping like cornstarch in a curry.”

Snape nodded in approval. “Both assertions were correct, actually. The pollens would partially neutralize the acidity of the stings and mucus, but we aren’t using a large enough quantity to stabilize all the acid. Clumping is a secondary concern. We cannot use one of those muggle china caps with this potion; aluminum or steel would render the troll mucus inert.”

“I suppose cheese cloth wouldn’t be porous enough,” Hermione stated.

“Correct. I’m ready for the doxy eggs now.”

Hermione dropped the the powdered eggs into the solution, one 3/7th tablespoonful every seventeen seconds as Snape continued to stir.

“How long until we move to stage six, Hermione?”

She glanced at the clock. “One hour and thirty-seven minutes, or four hours and three minutes from moonrise,” she stated with certainty.

“Correct. Shall we break for tea?” Snape moved away from the cauldron and gestured toward the door to his sitting room.

Hermione dabbed at her forehead with her handkerchief. “Thank you, yes.” 

“You’ll get used to the heat. What kind of tea would you prefer?”

She shrugged. “Surprise me. As long as it’s wet and strong, I’ll be happy.”

Snape chuckled. “We’ll have to work on that.”

Hermione blushed. She knew that as a Potions Mistress in-training, she should have definite  _ opinions _ on tea, but she couldn’t really be arsed to care. She’d grown up in a household that believed in disposable bags of tea dust, and she still turned to Typhoo whenever she felt homesick and in need of comfort. 

_ Then again _ , she mused,  _ I could get used to that smell. _ She watched as Snape placed a tea tray on the table near the hearth. The tea smelled absolutely wonderful. “Oh, that does smell lovely.”

Snape smirked. “I think we should use tea time as an excuse to fine tune your olfactory senses.” He removed the lid from the pot and allowed the steam to waft in front of her face. “What do you smell, Hermione?”

She sniffed delicately before answering. “Black tea. I’m not sure what kind. Vanilla and some kind of fruit...not cherry. Pomegranate?”

Her mentor nodded his approval.  “Not bad for a first try. What we are drinking is Monks Blend, which is Ceylon tea infused with vanilla and grenadine. It’s a favorite for the afternoon. I prefer an Assam blend in the mornings.” He replaced the lid on the pot to allow it to finish steeping.

“I’ll admit I’m a bad Brit. I don’t really know good tea from bad, just that I don’t like the bitterness of the PG Tips mum buys when she can’t get Typhoo.”

That rumbling chuckle sounded from Snape’s chest again. “You’re not a ‘bad Brit.’ I’d say you’re fairly typical. Almost everyone drinks coffee these days.”

She laughed at that. “It’s true. I can’t drink it, though. It makes me feel sick.”

Snape nodded. “I have a similar reaction. Ah, this should be ready now. Milk?”

“Please.” She watched as he poured a small sploosh of milk into her cup, set the strainer on top, and poured the tea over the top. He added a lump of sugar at Hermione’s nod. 

“Well now I’m just confused,” she said, stirring the sugar into her brew. “Mum always said to put the milk in last.”

Her tea partner shrugged. “It depends. You said your mum buys teabags?” He waited for her nod. “Then putting the milk in last is the better choice, otherwise the milk would cool the teabag and your cup won’t brew properly. As I make my tea in the pot, pouring the milk in first allows it to heat more evenly when I pour the tea in and the milk solids won’t clump.” He shrugged again at her blank look. “It tastes better.”

Hermione took a sip of her tea. She honestly couldn’t taste a difference. “Alright.”

“It also prevents milk scum from forming on top.”

She smiled this time, sipping again. “Alright.”

Snape sighed, pouring his own tea (with milk) and stirring in two lumps of sugar. “We’ll make a tea connoisseur of you yet, Granger. It’ll be good nose training for you.”

“Whatever you say, Master Snape!” she replied with a cheeky grin.

Snape waved his wand and set a CD playing. Hermione closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the chair as Dave Brubeck’s “Blue Rondo à la Turk” started playing in the room. “You have good taste in music,” she said after a moment.

“You like jazz?” 

“I like a lot of different styles of music,” she corrected, “including jazz. My father loves jazz. On weekends when I was home from school he’d take me with him into Belgravia. There’s a club there where people go to smoke cigars, drink whiskey and listen to jazz. Some of my best memories are going there with Dad. He'd sip his drink and I'd have a lemonade, and we'd listen to whomever was on the stage that night. He's not much of a talker, Dad.”

“You enjoyed going to a smell cigar club with your father when you were a teenager?”

She tilted her head at him in confusion. “Yes?”

“Hermione, each day you simply reaffirm my belief that you’re a very odd duck.”

“Well, thanks. I think.” She finished her tea and set it the cup and saucer down on the table, leaning back in chair once again. “I like your sitting room. It feels very well lived in.”

He snorted before finishing his own tea and pouring another cup. “You mean shabby.”

“No, I mean well lived in. It’s comfortable. The kind of place where you want to take your shoes off and curl up with a book for a few hours.” 

“That was the general idea when I arranged it.” He paused for a moment, considering her. “You can take your shoes off if you want, I suppose.”

She smiled gratefully. “Thanks. I don’t know how you do it, standing for hours on end. Your feet must kill you each night.”

“Cushioning charms in my boots. And you become accustomed over time.” He leaned back in his chair with his tea, closing his eyes to enjoy the music.

Hermione did the same, resting her hands in her lap. Within a few minutes, she was dozing quietly.

Snape rose and looked at his sleeping apprentice. A quick glance at the clock told him they had about twenty minutes before they needed to be back in the lab, and he needed Hermione very much awake for the next step of the brewing process. With a slightly wicked smirk, he exchanged the jazz compilation for another disc, then took care to raise the volume of the little machine. 

Hermione sat straight up in her chair when Robert Plant started wailing out the opening notes of “Immigrant Song” at a volume that could only be described as deafening.

“I’m awake I’m awake!” she shrieked, hands flying to her ears. Snape managed to reduce the volume before doubling over in a fit of laughter.

“Not funny,” she grumbled, drawing her robes around herself.

“Surely you don’t begrudge me a little fun, Granger,” Snape said, reigning in his laughter.

“Since when does Professor Snape enjoy pranks?” she asked, rubbing at her ringing left ear. 

“I’ve never  _ not _ enjoyed pranks,” he said, sobering slightly.  “But I’ve had to spend the last twenty years watching others have all the fun. Because, as you so rightly stated,  _ Evil Professor Snape _ doesn’t enjoy pranks, he enjoys bullying. I can tell you, the day the Weasley twins arrived at Hogwarts was one of the best in my career to date.” 

“You know, Severus, I don’t think I know you at all,” Hermione said, shaking her head. “Is this what I have in store for me for the next six years.”

“Hermione, I think you can safely say that what you know of me could fill a thimble. And as for the latter...yes. I’ve been given my very own apprentice to torture. You can hardly expect me not to indulge. Now come along. Wolfsbane, stage seven awaits.”

The bewildered witch rose to follow the billowing robes out of the room.

  
✿HG/SS✿

  


Dinner that night was a slightly more crowded affair than it had been in weeks past as more teachers arrived at Hogwarts from their summer homes. Hermione sank into her chair gratefully, refusing the offer of wine in favor of a glass of water.

“Goodness, Hermione. You look exhausted. Whatever have you had her doing, Severus?” Minerva commented.

“We brewed Wolfsbane today, Minerva. We’ve been at it since just after breakfast and I’m afraid my apprentice hasn’t quite built up the stamina of a true brewer yet.”

“There’s no need to be insulting, Severus.” Pomona commented, reaching her hand out to finger the bouquet at the center of the table. “Another one of yours, dear?” she asked.

Hermione nodded as Snape responded. “It wasn’t meant as an insult Pomona. Hermione is an apprentice. She needs to build up her tolerances for extended brewing sessions and Wolfsbane, as you know, is a particularly onerous potion to brew. She did well enough for a first run.” 

“Alright Severus, no need to be tetchy,” the elder witch responded, admiring the bouquet further. “Another lovely specimen in this one. Too bad the stasis renders its pollen inert.”

Hermione looked more closely at the bouquet and frowned. “I’m sorry, Pomona. Which?” Her brain was sluggishly plowing through her herbological knowledge and coming up short.

“Remind me to start working with you on rare flowers, dear. Severus, this one might be of use to you still. The petals are useful, I think.”

“And the leaves,” Snape said, agreeing. “Yes, I can use these. If you don’t mind, Hermione?”

She waved her hand to indicate her assent, watching as Snape carefully extracted a half dozen slim flowers from the very center of the bouquet. He quickly shrank the blossoms and deposited them into a small specimen jar before secreting it away in his robes.

Hermione leaned toward Neville. “What exactly were those?” 

“Ghost flower,” he replied, serving himself some roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. “Indian, I think. They’re pretty rare.”

“They’re creepy looking. All white and, I dunno. Spindly.”

“Wow, your vocabulary really goes when you’re tired. The last ones were white too, right?”

She furrowed her brow. “No, yesterday’s bouquet was all blues.”

“The rare flowers, I meant. From last week. They were white too.”

Hermione thought back. She was having trouble remembering her last name, much less what flowers were sent to her last week. “Huh. I guess you’re right. Weird. I wonder where he’s getting them. I mean, they’re rare, right? It’s not like your average florist will have them on hand. We don’t even have these in the greenhouses.”

“Probably a private supplier. Maybe a personal garden. There are lots of rare flower collectors in pureblood circles. It was a pretty big hobby in the 19th century, and a lot of families still maintain the old gardens.”

“Leave it to you to know something about everything floral, Neville,” Hermione said with a smirk.

He shrugged. “D’you fancy a pint down down in Hogsmeade tonight? We haven’t left Hogwarts in over a week.”

She forced her eyes open and applied herself to her food. “Not tonight, I think. I’m too tired. I’m probably going to have a bath and then, assuming I don’t drown, crawl into bed. We have to finish the Wolfsbane tomorrow, and it’s another all-day process. Can I take a rain check?”

“Sure, ‘Mione. Come out with Ron and me this weekend, yeah? We’ll try to get Harry and Ginny to come too. Maybe Luna.”

“You know where Luna goes, so goes Draco, right?”

“That’s fine as long as he isn’t a git,” he snarked.

Hermione snorted into her pumpkin juice. “Oh, Neville. It’s Draco. He’s always a git.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, somewhat fluffy chapter. Bad writer monkey. It's just where my keyboard took me tonight.
> 
> Sorry for the long time between updates. No excuse this time other than general fatigue. I'll be better this week. Promise.


	11. Late Night Intervention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione's night terrors are still a very real problem, but at least the provide the opportunity to get to know her mentor a little better.

Severus was in the middle of a lovely dream. He was on a sandy beach, watching the waves roll in for high tide. There was a cold drink in his hand and a curvy, bikini and sarong clad brunette in front of him, preparing to enter the waves. He watched as her hands went to the knot of her cover-up, watching in anticipation as she prepared to remove the last tie between the thin, gauzy fabric and what he was fairly sure would her tight, luscious arse.

The drink in his hand began to sweat as the wind and waves picked up speed, the sky greying as the storm rolled into shore. The disrobing woman stopped her striptease, glancing at the roiling clouds like a startled rabbit before scampering off across the sand. Severus cried out, disappointed to see her leave before the waves rushed to shore and lifted his body afloat. The water twisted his body back and forth, and his drink spilled over his hand. Gusts of wind seemed to call his name…”Professor Snape!  _ Professor Snape! _ ”

Snape sat up in his bed as a pointed finger poked at his deltoid. “The Professor must wake!” hissed a voice at his elbow. He looked down to see Hermione’s house elf, Zandi, shaking him awake. 

“Zandi, why are you in my quarters at -- gods -- three in the morning?” Severus growled.

The little elf sniffled as an overlarge tear dripped down her pointed nose. “The Professor’s apprentice is screaming and shaking. Zandi cannot wake her. And she is hurting. There is blood on the sheets. Zandi needs help from the dark professor.”

“Shit.” Severus heaved himself out of his bed and grabbed a bathrobe. “Thank you, Zandi. I’ll take care of it.” He grabbed some powder and stuck his head in the floo. “Albus. Albus, are you awake?”

A sleepy headmaster replied to Snape’s shouted summons. “Severus? No, damn you, I’m not. What’s the problem?”

“Hermione’s house elf just woke me. She says Hermione is screaming and in pain. There’s blood. I need to get into her quarters.” 

Dumbledore’s voice sounded suddenly alert. “One moment.” 

Severus disconnected the floo call and stood just as Dumbledore apparated into his sitting room. “Well, come on then,” the older man said, holding out his blackened arm. Moments later, the two men were in Hermione’s quarters. She was still screaming.

The Headmaster cast a quick lumos, lighting the room as both men rushed toward the bed. Hermione was screaming, back arched as her left arm bled onto the bed. Crudely carved letters spelling “Mudblood” were oozing blood onto her sheets. Her familiar was perched at the foot of her bed, yowling sympathetically at his mistress’ distress.

Severus took his apprentice by the shoulders and shook. “Hermione, wake up. You’re having a night terror. Wake UP!”

The young woman merely continued to scream. 

“Allow me, Severus.” Dumbledore stood at the foot of the bed and held his wand over the twisted sheets, silently invoking a strong stimulus charm. Almost immediately, Hermione’s eyes flew open. She sat up gasping for air, rubbing her hand over her face and smearing blood over her nightdress. 

“Good morning, Hermione!” the older man said cheerfully. We’re very sorry to invade your sleep, but I’m given to understand you’ve had a slight nightmare. Will you please allow allow Severus to examine your arm?”

Hermione stared at Dumbledore, clearly bewildered by his presence in her bedroom. She held her arm close to her bloody night dress as she stared at the Headmaster. “I’m sorry. It was just a nightmare. I didn’t mean to disturb anyone.”

Severus shot his employer a quick glance before he eased himself onto the side of her bed. “Hermione, your house elf fetched me. She couldn’t wake you. Now please, let me see your arm.”

She shakily held her arm out for Severus to examine, watching as he bent his head toward the skin to sniff at the bloodied scar. She recoiled slightly when she saw his tongue snake out to taste the skin at her wrist. Another glance summoned Dumbledore to his side. “Albus? I’m going to need your assistance.” He turned back to Hermione. “We need to move to my lab. Can you stand, Granger?”

She nodded and swung her legs off the bed, following her mentor and the headmaster as they moved through the door in her quarters, through her lab and office into his. 

“How did you come by your scar, Hermione?” Dumbledore asked gently.

“Bellatrix Lestrange, during the winter hols last year,” she said tonelessly. “I was in Diagon Alley, getting some last minute shopping done for Christmas. She and Dolohov cornered me.” The girl sniffed and wiped at her nose with her free hand. “It’s why I asked Lupin to help me convince my parents to take an extended vacation.”

“Why didn’t you come to us, Hermione?” the headmaster asked. “We could have helped.”

Hermione gave a humorless laugh. “The order was a  _ bit _ busy at the time. You weren’t even in England at the time, sir. Professor Snape was locked in the dungeons, preparing for the final battle. Most of the order was tracking down Death Eaters or training for the final battle and half the students were still recovering after attack at the Halloween dance. Those of us who weren’t were training the DA and making healing potions for Madame Pomfrey. There wasn’t time to do much more than put some dittany on it and continue with preparations. It healed up, mostly.” She finished with a weak shrug recalling the terror and the frantic activity that persisted for months before the final battle. She didn't mention that it was _Harry_ who was the focus of all their preparations; her wounds were unimportant in the greater scheme of battle preparations.  


Severus huffed a sigh and moved away from his apprentice to gather a few prepared potions. “Hermione, Bellatrix used a cursed blade on your arm.”

“Funnily enough, I’d figured that out for myself,” she mumbled.

“Then you should probably have figured out that you don’t treat a cursed blade wound with dittany alone. You have to cleanse the wound of the dark magic, otherwise it won’t heal.”

Hermione dropped her eyes to the potions bench. “Oh.” She looked embarrassed and impossibly young. “Is it too late to fix it?”

“I can extract the curse, but you will likely still have the scar. How frequently has the wound reopened?”

“This is fourth time. It’s always during a nightmare.”

Severus snorted. “That was no nightmare, Granger. I’ve seen nightmares, and you don’t generally need a medical grade stimulus charm to wake someone from them. That was a cursed night terror. Did it ever occur to you that the scar might be the  _ cause _ of your night terrors?” His voice was deliberately sharp as Severus used his anger to cover his concern for Hermione. He set out several potion bottles and a small stack of flannels.

Her voice was small when she replied. “No. I’m sorry.”

“Severus, this is not helping.” The older man took a seat across from Hermione on the bench. “Hermione, I respect that you are a highly self-sufficient woman, but this is something you should have brought to us. No matter how busy, we would have taken the time to take care of your welfare.”

Hermione averted her eyes and shrugged again. “I wasn’t the important one, sir. Harry was, and your time was better spent with him.”

Severus glanced at Dumbledore and shook his head minutely. “Albus, I’ll need you to help restrain her.” He looked Hermione in the eye. “I’m afraid this is going to hurt rather more than it would have seven months ago. Keep breathing. It’ll do you no good to pass out.” Albus reached out and held her arm in place as Snape grasped  the first vial and doused a flannel in a foul-smelling purple liquid. He applied the flannel directly to the wound, ignoring Hermione’s shriek as the flannel and her arm began to smoke.

“Oh, Gods!” she cried. “It burns.”

Severus bore down and moved the flannel over the letters carved into her arm. “A few more seconds. Breathe in through your nose.”

She did as she was told, containing a sob. Albus tightened his grip on her hand arm, holding it still as Severus doused a new flannel in a green gel. He smoothed this over Hermione’s quickly and she sighed as the gel cooled the burn of the first tonic.

“Thank you,” she breathed.

“Don’t thank me yet. There’s still two to go.” he replied bluntly.

“Severus, not helpful.” Albus admonished.

Hermione laughed darkly. “No, it’s fine. I’d rather know the truth.”

“Breathe in again, Granger.” Severus applied a third topic, a noxious yellow color, that felt as though it were freezing her down to the bone.  He looked up at her face and saw that she was chewing her lip raw in an attempt to prevent herself from screeching. “Go ahead and scream if you need to,” he said with a smirk.

“Fuck!” she whimpered. “Fuck fuck fuckity fuck shitty shit buggering FUCK!”

“Goodness, Hermione. Is that the best you can do?” asked Dumbledore with a twinkle in his eye.

She let out a shaky laugh in response, cringing as the cold seemed to pulse upward with her heartbeat. When she looked down, she saw that a blue-black liquid was seeping from the scarred letters. Severus used his wand to siphon the liquid away from her arm and into an empty vial before grabbing the last vial, which contained essence of dittany.

She breathed a sigh of relief as the cold began to dissipate and the wounds closed. 

Severus moved across the room, replacing the vials in his cabinet and withdrawing another. “Essence of Murtlap. Apply after you bathe each morning and again before bed.”

Hermione hands closed around the vial. “Thank you.” She glanced down at her arm and was surprised to see that the scarring seemed more healed than before. “It looks less awful too.”

Severus nodded. “I don’t think it will heal completely, but the scarring should shrink significantly over the next few weeks. The murtlap will help with that.” He stood from the potions bench as Dumbledore released Hermione’s arm. 

“Well done, Severus.  I’m more sorry to say that you thought you couldn’t come to us unless your issues concerned Harry. I hope in the future you will remember that we’re here for you too, my dear.”

“Thank you, Albus,” she said quietly.

“Right. To bed with you then. I’m going to attempt to get some more sleep myself. Severus, Hermione, your servant.” Albus popped out of the laboratory to, she assumed, return to her quarters.

Hermione let out a long breath. “I don’t think I’m going to be doing any more sleeping tonight.”

“Hardly surprising, considering the spell Albus had to use to wake you. Come on. We’ll go down to the kitchens and get a snack.” Severus moved toward the door and opened it, allowing her to precede him.

“Thanks.”

They moved through the hallways silently, his wand at waist level to avoid waking the portraits. “Any other curse scars you’re not telling us about, Hermione?” he asked.

Her voice was barely audible when she replied. “Just the one from Dolohov on my chest. Madame Pomfrey treated that one though, so I think that’s as good as it’s going to get.”

“Unfortunately, yes. I was one of the original people who helped treat the results of your ill-fated romp through the Ministry. The scar may lighten some over time, but it will never disappear entirely. Think of it as a souvenir of a battle well-fought.”

“I will. I do already. The other,” she gestured toward her left forearm, “is more disturbing because of the sentiment it carries, not because of the scar itself. We all walked away from the war with wounds that won’t heal,” she finished quietly.

“Indeed.” They’d reached the kitchens now, and Severus paused to tickle the pear that led to the entrance, ushering Hermione inside before him.

The elves -- gracious as ever -- quickly settled the two late-night visitors at a small table to the side of the enormous kitchens. A plate of sandwiches, cookies, and a pot of fresh tea were delivered within minutes, and Hermione and Severus fell upon the light repast with gratitude.

Halfway through his second sandwich, Severus paused. “How did you escape Bellatrix when she cornered you in Diagon Alley?” he asked curiously.

“I’m not sure.”

“What do you mean you’re not sure?”

“Just that. I’d blacked out from the pain. She used cruciatus before taking out that horrid knife. Halfway through the process I passed out. When I came to, I was propped up against a wall in the alley behind Flourish and Blotts. Someone had wrapped my arm in a strip of fabric and just left me there.” She poured herself more tea, pleased to see that her hands didn’t shake.

“How odd,” he murmured, offering her the milk carafe as he took the teapot for himself. “I wonder if someone managed to chase the mad bint off?”

“ _ Chase _ Bellatrix Lestrange away?” Hermione snorted. “That seems unlikely.”

“I’m inclined to agree, but little else make sense. She wouldn’t torture you and leave you. She’d either bring you back to Voldemort for interrogation or she’d kill you outright.”

“I thought as much at the time, but I’m afraid I still have no answers. I did use the incident as an excuse to send my parents out of the country on an extended tour. Remus helped me to convince them that they should sell the practice and spend some time moving about until the war ended.” She smiled faintly, nibbling on a cookie. “From the last report, they’re having a ball somewhere in Italy. They probably won’t be home until Christmas comes ‘round again.”

Severus quirked an eyebrow at the young woman in front of him. “I don’t recall that Lupin has ever been the particularly persuasive sort.”

“He’s not,” she said, turning her forearm toward herself and running her finger over the healing scar, “but this was.”

“I see. What will your parents do when they return?”

“I’m not sure. I suspect Mum will want to open a small dental surgery, but I think Dad will want to try his hand at something different. He’s nearly twenty years older than she is -- nearing retirement age, really. I suspect he’ll work at the surgery part time and spend the rest of his hours in the garden.” She smiled fondly at the thought of her parents’ return.

“That sounds pleasant. Do you enjoy gardening?”

“I do, actually. Another bonding experience with Dad. Mum has the black thumb of death,” she giggled. “She kills everything, including silk floral arrangements.” 

“How does one kill a silk floral arrangement?”

“Easy! One forgets its composition and waters and fertilizes it!”

Severus admitted to himself that her laughter was a very pleasant thing indeed.

 

✿HG/SS✿

 

Severus was kind enough to walk her to the door of her apartments as dawn approached. It was an unnecessary gesture considering his were a mere 50 feet down the hall from hers, but appreciated nonetheless. 

“Take tomorrow morning for yourself. I don’t want to see you brewing on three hours of sleep.”

“Oh, but the Wolfsbane --”

“Will keep under stasis for a few hours until you come in after lunch. No arguments, Hermione.”

She paused, clearly torn between much needed sleep and the need to fulfill her duties. “Alright. Thanks, then. For helping with the scar and for the talk.”

“Don’t mention it. In the future, might I recommend you set an emergency password to your rooms. This way the headmaster won’t need to intervene if you suffer continuing night terrors from your injury,” he said, nodding toward her arm again.

“Oh, but I thought you said the night terrors would dissipate?”

“They should, but it may take time for your body to heal the lingering curse wounds from Bellatrix’s knife. A few weeks, perhaps.”

She frowned at that. “I gave Neville the emergency password, but I don’t suppose he’d be much help in that situation. Could I give it to you, since you helped me tonight? Or would that be presumptuous?” she finished in a rush.

“I’m happy to help should the terrors reoccur,” he reassured her.

“Oh. Then the emergency password is ‘Carina’.”

“Carina? Like the constellation?”

“Exactly!” she said with a bright smile. “The Carina Nebula was one of my favorites in Astronomy class.”

He tilted his head in consideration. “It is very pretty, I’ll grant you that. Very well, inform your elf to fetch me again should you have another night terror. I’ll bid you goodnight. Get some sleep, Granger.”

“Yes sir,” she said, slipping through the now-open door to her compartment. “And thank you again for your assistance.”

Hermione leaned against the door as she shut it behind her, bewildered yet again by the thoughtful nature of her mentor. She looked over at Crookshanks, who was peering at her curiously from the back of the sofa. “Who know, Crooks? Severus Snape not only has a sense of humor, but an occasionally nice disposition to boot.” Shaking her head, she gave her familiar a quick scritch behind his ears before moving to her bedroom, muttering, “Will the wonders never cease?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the false upload of Chapter 11 a couple days ago, folks. I accidentally submitted Chapter 10 twice. That said, I felt bad enough that I decided to actually WRITE Chapter 11 and post it today. 
> 
> A few of you have asked me which parts of TCA are AU and which aren't (Dumbles is clearly alive, but Hermione is still scarred -- a Book 7 event.) I hope that this ties up at least one loose end for you.
> 
> Also, there has been no mention of Crookshanks to date. He's still there, I just...forgot to mention how he got to Hogwarts. Can we all just assume he came on the train with Hermione and Neville and that your forgetful author just didn't mention that particular detail?


	12. Gossip Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little background while Severus simmers in his quarters, followed by Hermione's Day Off! (Also, our plot thickens.)

Hermione woke groggily mid-morning, noting that the sun was already high when she finally swung her feet out of bed. Crookshanks was in his favored spot at the foot of her bed, attending to his morning ablutions and serving as a reminder that she should see to her own. She glanced down at her arm and noted that, while she still felt a dull and throbbing ache, the letters themselves seemed to have diminished somewhat as she slept.  She stepped into the shower feeling lighter than she had in ages.

✿HG/SS✿

Severus did not wake feeling rested or cheerful. His late night chat with his apprentice had done nothing for his own nightmares, and he found himself chased by cursed memories of his own past until he’d finally given sleeping up as a bad job and gone about his morning. I had taken a raft of tea brewed strong enough to stand a spoon in to render him functional, and still his mind would not focus.

He understood his nightmares and knew why they haunted him. Nearly two decades of crawling through the shit with Voldemort and his merry band of madmen had been enough to seed his subconscious for ten lifetimes. He thought it unfair that Hermione should be similarly afflicted when she was so young. No doubt Potter and the youngest Weasley boy were also affected. It was enough to cause the need for some serious brooding.

When Snape and Dumbledore’s joint efforts had presented a method to not only cure a rotting hand but remove its lingering curse, they’d understood that the action of healing the Order’s figurehead and strategic mastermind would simultaneously end Severus’ career as a double agent. There was no way for Dumbledore to continue living and for Severus to continue spying in a form that was even remotely safe. Albus had hastily concocted a plan to undo Tom Riddle’s fine plans for the year, managing to recruit Draco as spy in his godfather’s stead. Albus, genius that he was, had managed to bring Narcissa into the fold as well, and convince her that Severus had satisfied the first clause of the Unbreakable Vow to a point where Narcissa and the Headmaster had manage to release him from its remaining clauses even without the presence of the original bonder. 

This was patently untrue, of course. Draco had been in greater danger as a spy than he had been as the human embodiment of Lucius’ punishment, but Narcissa had agreed. Shattering the vow had caused a brief bout of illness the like of which Severus had never before experienced. He’d felt as though every fibre of his being were being slow-roasted over an open flame, but after a few hours he had, at long last, been freed from the vow, from the pull of two masters, and from the constant threat of discovery. After a summer spent as his own personal guinea pig, he’d managed to remove the side-effects of the dark mark, if not the mark itself and finally concentrate his efforts more fully onto what Dumbledore had declared a “last stand” at the castle: namely the creation of a potion to remove a witch or wizard’s magic.

Of course, he’d also spend a not inconsiderable amount of time patching up and supporting his godson as well. Draco was ordered to act the double agent, seeming to spy on the Headmaster and his godfather alike while actually informing them on the teenage Death Eaters in Hogwarts’ midst, and as a result he suffered occasional bouts of cruciatus during his infrequent visits with the Dark Lord and, more commonly, the bruises and indignities associated with living amongst testosterone-driven fledgling junior Death Eaters. 

It had been utter insanity. Watching Draco suffer what should have been his fate caused the nightmares to return ten-fold. Not that he slept much that year; his research had taken him into the wee hours most nights. Nevertheless, what little sleep Severus did get was tainted by blood-filled horrors and screaming apparitions that continued to haunt him to this day. He knew Draco, too, suffered night terrors that would frighten the most hardened of men. Severus had already decided to turn his research skills toward creating a serum that would allow the unconscious mind to dream -- as this was necessary for the brain to process and learn from each day’s events -- but to allow the dreamer to step back from they're nocturnal experiences in order to process safely. He thought a calming draught that incorporated the charms that made the pensieve  work might be worth exploring.

He shook his head to clear it. That was a task for another day. In the immediate, he needed to finish the Wolfsbane so that it could be flooed to Remus. Assuming Hermione arrived in time to commence the process before moonrise.

As if summoned, a knock at his laboratory door heralded his apprentice’s arrival. He flicked his wand toward it to allow her entrance. “And what time do you call this?” he asked, thoroughly grouchy from the morning’s brooding session.

Hermione barely refrained from rolling her eyes at his surliness. Gods help her, she was pretty sure she was getting used to it. “Late morning. You did say to sleep in. I’m sorry if I took advantage.”

He sighed. “No matter. We’ve work to finish. I need you to blend four ounces of newt eyes with the powdered canary feather we prepared yesterday. I cannot take the potion out of stasis until that is ready as it needs to be added immediately.”

She nodded and moved toward the ingredients cabinet to follow his directions.

They worked through lunch and dinner, pausing to summon sandwiches from the kitchens as they blended, poured, powdered, and sliced ingredients, adding them to the simmering cauldron one by one. Hermione wiped sweat from her brow in the steamy laboratory. “I’m beginning to see why Wolfsbane is so devilishly difficult to procure. I’ve never seen such an involved potion.”

Her mentor smirked while pouring chameleon blood into the silvery-grey sludge at the bottom of the cauldron. “Get used to it. You’ll be brewing this on your own by start of term. By winter break, I expect we’ll turn our attentions to your individual research.”

Hermione looked up, surprised. “So soon?”

“Your journeyman apprenticeship requires that you complete an individualized research project. You have only two years to accomplish that, so it’s best you start quickly.”

“And what will you be doing?”

“Supervising,” he snarked. “I also have a mind to start a new project incorporating a sleeping draft, a calming potion, and pensieve charms. To alleviate night terrors for those affected by the war.”

Hermione gave him a look of interest, hoping he'd expand on his statment. When he didn't, she made a mental note to ask later. Turning her attention back to the simmering cauldron, she asked, “Just the dried ironweed now, right?”

“Yes. Then we leave it simmering for three days as the new moon passes. You can deliver this batch to Remus yourself, if you like. It will be done by the weekend.”

Her smile brightened. “That would be great. I haven’t seen Teddy since coming back to Hogwarts. It’ll be nice to get away for the day, maybe have lunch with Tonks if she’s not too busy.”

“That would be acceptable. You’ve not left the castle or grounds for some time, so you may take the weekend if you wish.”

“I do wish,” Hermione said, handing Severus the bitter leaves. “Thanks.”

Severus merely nodded, incorporating the crushed leaves with fourteen deft anti-clockwise stirs. He placed a lid on the cauldron and turned the flame beneath it to its lowest level.

“Now we wait.”

  
✿HG/SS✿

  
“Hermione, come in, come in!” Tonks opened the door wide to let her young friend through the front door of the Lupin family’s small cottage.

“Mmmma!” came a shout from the kitchen, followed by a bang. “Brrrrapa!” This was quickly followed by a squelching splat.

Hermione shot a look toward the back of the house. “Should we -- “

“No, Teddy!” said a chuckling voice from the kitchen. “Bananas go in the mouth, if you please.”

Tonks smiled wearily and guided Hermione toward the sitting room. “Remus is on lunch duty today. Thank Merlin. Teddy started exhibiting his magic a few days ago and now every meal is a lesson in the aerodynamics of various bits of food.” She paused and glanced over her shoulder. “Oranges make tumble well, we’ve discovered, but mashed bananas make a more satisfying sound when they hit the floor. They look even better smeared in Remus’ hair!”

Hermione swallowed a giggle with an accidental snort, then caught the twinkle in Tonks’ eye. It only took a few minute before both women were in stitches.

“I heard that, you disloyal woman!” Remus called from the kitchen. “Just for that  _ you _ get to put him down for his n - a - p!”

Tonks guffawed. “Worth it!” she said, wiping a tear from her eye. “So love, tell me how things are at Hogwarts. Snape isn’t working you too hard, is he?”

“Oh, Hogwarts is the same as it ever was. They gave me a lovely set of rooms and Severus hasn’t been too bad. A bit grouchy, but he’s oddly approachable now that the war’s over.”

“Severus, is it?” Tonks asked.

“Well, yes. He treats me as sort of a junior colleague. I mean, he’s training me -- it’s hard work, but I’m learning  _ so _ much. But I’m also technically his employee, you know? I’m brewing for his potions business.”

Tonks huffed. “Well, that seems like a misuse of your apprenticeship if I ever heard it!”

“Oh, no! It’s a separate contract and the Headmaster knows about it. It’s all above board. And I’m paid for it. Pretty well, actually. He’s been very generous when it comes right down to it. I’m earning enough to buy some of the pricier ingredients I was hoping for to make cosmetics for Christmas presents this year. I thought it might be a fun change from the usual stuff from Flourish and Blotts or Honeyduke’s.”

“Everyone needs a hobby, I suppose, but better you than me,” Tonks muttered.

Hermione smirked. “You’ll be thanking me when you get lovely things to pour in your bath come Christmas.”

It was at this moment that Remus returned to the room. “Tag, you’re in,” he said to his wife with a broad grin. “Oh, and he got into an avocado. Have fun getting that out of his hair.”

“I was saving that for my sandwich.”    


Remus shrugged. “Your B.L.A.T. will just be a B.L.T. today, love. Go on, before he levitates himself out of his highchair.” 

“Teddy, love! Tub time. I have a rubber ducky with your name on it -- oh Gods, what is that in your hair?” Tonks said as she bustled into the kitchen.

Hermione giggled a bit. “Do I get to see Teddy before I leave?”

Remus plopped down into Tonks’ chair with a long sigh. “Wait until he’s had his bath. There something crusted all over him from breakfast. I’m not entirely sure what. How is one child this exhausting?”

“They say it takes a village...perhaps it’s because you need ten sets of eyes on him at once.”

He rolled his eyes heavenward at that. “Even with Dromeda helping out a couple days a week, it’s insanity. I don’t know what we’re going to do when the next comes along.”

Hermione grinned to see her former teacher, now her friend, harried over nappies and mushed bananas rather than dark lords and final battles. “Planning ahead already, Remus?”

“Sort of,” he muttered. “We um…well, Dora’s. You know.”

Her eyes popped wide. “Really? Really! Oh my goodness, Remus, that’s wonderful news!” Hermione leapt out of her chair to throw herself at the scruffy man. “I’m so happy for you. And so quickly!”

“Yes, well. Apparently the uh...lycanthropy mutation alters...stuff. I’ll need to have a word with Severus, actually.” He blushed as he scratched his head. “Dora’s thrilled, of course. I mean, so’m I. We just hadn’t expected it to happen quite so soon.” 

“Well I’m happy for you both. Honestly, Remus, you make such wonderful parents. And you know that I’ll come help whenever I can, and that Molly and Ginny and the boys will too. And I’m sure Harry wants to spend more time with his godson,” she said with a little quirk of the lips. “It’ll work out.”

“I know it will. Did I tell you they’ve offered me a position at the Ministry?”

“No! When?”

“Just last week. I was going to write, but then you said you’d be coming by to visit today. I thought I’d save the news ‘til then.” He shot her a proud look. “They want me to serve as a specialist in the DMLE. I’ll be an Auror, officially, but with a specialization in magical creatures. Working to track rogue werewolves and vampires, mostly.”

“Wow. That’s pretty impressive. And clever of them to hire a werewolf to track werewolves. Will you and Tonks get to work together?”

“For a few months, yes. She’s on desk duty for the next eight months, so she’ll be my research partner. She’s right grumpy about it too.”

“So would you be if you were trapped behind a mountain of paperwork when you could be doing what you’re trained to do in the field.” Tonks chimed in, entering while carrying their freshly washed son. “Let’s sit with your Auntie ‘Mione, Teddy,” she said, unceremoniously plunking her son in Hermione’s lap. His hair, currently a violent purple, began to twist itself into corkscrews as he reached out to tug at one of Hermione’s wild curls.

“Congratulations all the same,” she said. “Remus said you’re expecting again.”

“We are. A bit sooner than anticipated, but we’re happy regardless,” Tonks said, tracing a hand over her trim stomach. “I suppose it’ll be nice for Teddy to have a sibling close to his own age.” 

“Well, Bill and Charlie have about the same age difference as your two will between them. They’re best friends, even with Charlie off in Bulgaria nine months of the year,” Remus pointed out.

“I know love,” Tonks replied. “I’m just annoyed to be stuck behind a desk for the next eight. ‘Mione, you know anything about the werewolf mutation zapping contraceptive potions dead? Because I checked mine and it wasn’t out of date.” Hermione shot a glance toward a blushing Remus. “What? It’s not like she won’t be helping to brew whatever solution Snape comes up with.”

Remus glanced toward Hermione. “I’m sorry if this is embarrassing for you, Hermione.”

She waved a hand at him in dismissal. “She’s right, you know. I help Severus with most of the brewing now and I’m here partly on business anyway.” She reached into her bag and pulled out the freshly brewed Wolfsbane potion for Remus and placed it on the coffee table. “In fact, I helped him brew your Wolfsbane. Well, prepped the ingredients mostly, but I was there the entire time. He said I’ll be brewing it for you by the time term starts.”

“Goodness, he is bringing you along fast. Thank him for this for me, please,” Remus said, taking the potion and placing it in the small breakfront in the dining room where curious hands wouldn’t find it. 

“He is. It’s only been a few weeks, but I’ve already brewed through the entire healing list for the infirmary. I’ll start rarer potions this week.” Hermione turned back to Tonks. “I’ll mention the problem with contraceptives for you. Perhaps we can come up with a solution by the time you’re in need of it again,” she said with an encouraging smile.

“Thanks,” Tonks said.

“So any word yet on whether it’s a boy or a girl?”

Remus shook his head. “No, we’re seeing the healer next week. Dora’s convinced it’s another boy, but I’m hoping for a girl this time.” 

“I don’t really mind one way or the other as long as they’re healthy,” Tonks corrected him. “Which reminds me, Snape brewed my prenatal potions last time ‘round. Think he could do it again?”

Hermione bounced Teddy on her knee as he babbled at her in baby talk. “If he can’t, I will. In fact, if you don’t mind I’d like to ask him if I can do it.” She looked up at Remus and Tonks hopefully.

“I can’t think of anyone I trust more.” Tonks said.

  
✿HG/SS✿  
  


Hermione apparated to Hogsmeade with a light heart and a  lighter pocketbook. She’d stopped by her parents’ house to ensure all was in order (it was), and had decided to pop into one of her favorite odds and ends stores before returning to Hogwarts. She’d found a couple little things for Ron and Neville -- including a white noise machine that she was fairly sure she could rig to run on magic for Neville, since Ron’s snores were notoriously supersonic -- but she was most proud of what she’d found for Severus. She just needed to figure out how to get it to him.  

“Hermione!” a voice shouted from behind her as she appeared outside the Hogwarts gates. 

“Neville! Where’re you off to?” she asked.

“Meeting up with Ron at the Three Broomsticks. Want to join us?”

“Oh, I don’t want to be an awkward third on your date.”

He made a pshing noise at her in dismissal. “It isn’t a date. We’re having a drink. Come on, I know he’s been wanting to see you.” He sent her a pleading look that she could only think to describe as ‘puppy dog eyes.’ It made Neville’s already affable demeanor completely adorabe; Ron was going to be in some serious trouble.

“Alright, if you’re sure I’m not intruding. Just, I dunno. Send me a sign or something if you want me to leave the two of you alone.”

“Fair enough. How about I use a code phrase?”

Hermione laughed. “Very secret agent. Alright double-oh-snake-slayer. What’s the phrase?”

“Mmmm. Something along the lines of ‘Hey, Hermione, do you mind if Ron and I go off on our own for awhile?’ Think that’ll work?” Neville snarked.

“You’d be a horrible spy. Stick to killing reptiles, Longbottom. I’m afraid you’re wasted in MI6.”

“In what?”

“Muggle thing. A bit link the Unspeakables but...you know what? Nevermind,” she said with a little laugh.

Neville rolled his eyes as he opened the door of the Three Broomsticks for her. “Right then. First round’s on me. Ron!” he said, waving at the redhead near the back of the smokey room.

“Hey Neville,” he said, rising and giving his boyfriend a kiss on the cheek. “And who is this lovely lady you’ve brought with you? Wait, she looks familiar…”

“Oh shut it and give me a hug, you great oaf,” Hermione said, wrinkling her nose. “Neville assured me I wouldn’t busting up your date if I joined you for a drink, so here I am.”

“Nah. I’m glad you did,” Ron said, running a hand down her hair, then giving her shoulder a squeeze and guiding her into the booth. “I missed that face. Yeah, that one. Where you look at me like I’m missing a few brain cells. Almost like home, that face.”

Neville ignored the byplay as he looked through the seasonal ales list in front of him, well used to Ron and Hermione’s banter. “That pumpkin lager sounds awful. Awful thing to do to a gourd. I’m for the Henpecked Stout. What about you two?”

“Same, thanks Nev,” Ron said.

Hermione glanced at the list and quickly found a sweeter beer that she knew she liked. “Um. I’ll do the Hippogriff Kriek, if you don’t mind.”

“Fancy. Right then, I’ll just let Rosmerta know. Back in a tick.”

Ron turned toward Hermione as Neville moved toward the bar. “So what’ve you been up to? I’ve been here days now and haven’t seen hide nor hair of you.”

Hermione shrugged, fiddling with her purse strap. “Down in the dungeons, mostly. Severus has me brewing nearly every day. This is my first weekend off in a month.”

“The git’s not working you too hard, is he?”

“No, nothing like that. I mean, we both work hard. We’ve been brewing Wolfsbane all week, and that was a lot of preparation and time. But he’s treating me well and I’m learning a lot. It’s good, Ron. Honestly.”

He nodded. “What’s he like when he’s not teaching a class?”   


“Well, he’s still snarky, but it’s more playful, I guess. He plays little pranks on me, kind of like Fred and George do. Not in the lab, but elsewhere. I fell asleep in his sitting room while we were waiting for one stage of brewing to finish and he woke me up by playing metal at me!”

Ron shot her an odd look. “Why would you play medals?”

She rolled her eyes. “Not medals. Metal. Heavy metal music. It’s a muggle thing. Kind of like the Weird Sisters, but louder. And with more guitars. You’d like it.”

“So Snape has decent taste in music,” Ron said ponderously as Neville returned to the booth. “Weird.”

“Yeah. He’s nice. Well, he’s nice to me, at least. I like working with him. And,” she glanced up to include Neville in the conversation, “he healed my scar a few nights ago.”

“The one from Bellatrix?” Neville asked anxiously.

“Yeah. It opened during a night terror a few nights ago. My house elf woke him and he got Dumbledore to let him into my rooms. They managed to wake me and he drew out the curse from her blade.” She rolled back her sleeve to show them the half-healed scars. “It’s looking loads better already, and he said it should fade some more. It was causing the night terrors.” She shot a look at Ron, knowing that he was well aware of her screaming, bleeding episodes late at night. 

“Damn,” Ron breathed. “That’s really great, ‘Mione. I’m glad he could help you. Seems strange for him not to be a complete git.”

“I told you, Ron. He’s been good. He’s been very patient with me in my private potions lessons,” Neville chimed in. “We spend more time on theory now, so I understand a lot of the reasons behind what I’m doing. And he doesn’t breathe down my neck. I haven’t melted a single cauldron since we started as apprentices.” He said it with no small amount of pride.

Hermione grinned. “He mentioned that the other day in the lab. He said you’d be a passable brewer if it killed him. He’s really committed to making sure you and I understand each other’s specialities, since they’re so closely intertwined.”

“Makes sense,” Neville said, nodding.

“Anyway, enough about our stuff. What gossip do you have from the outside world?” Hermione asked.

“Not much, really. Oh, except Mum caught Harry and Ginny in a bit of a  _ compromising situation _ , if you know what I mean,” Ron said with a smirk.

“Oh no! You don’t mean -- “

“Nah, they weren’t doing it. On the way there, though. I believe Mum got an eyeful of parts of Gin that she hasn’t seen since before she went off to Hogwarts. She near screamed the house down. It’s alright now, though. Harry sent her an enormous bouquet of flowers and a card basically letting her know that his ‘intentions are honorable’. Mum quieted down after that.”

Hermione and Neville glanced at one another in mutual horror. “I can’t imagine. What’d your dad do?”

“Said they were both adults and that he trusted them to act responsibly, but asked that they respect his house and not engage in those activities under his roof til they’re married. He was right reasonable about it if you ask me.” 

“Maybe Harry should’ve sent  _ him _ flowers,” Neville joked. “Speaking of which, Hermione, another bouquet came for you at lunch. There were a couple rare ones in it that Severus and Pomona squabbled over. I think they ended up splitting them.”

Hermione sighed, pulling a tiny notebook and biro out of her robes and enlarging them. “DId you see what they were?” she asked.

“Albino Hawkweed and a Sea Poison Tree bloom. Don’t know how he got the bloom to stay open, since their nocturnal,” Neville said with no small amount of interest.

Hermione scribbled the flowers and the date down in her notebook. “Any other flowers of note?”

“No. The rest as nullified boxwood and hydrangea. Both white. Nothing special.” 

Hermione wrote those down as well and snapped the notebook shut as their beers were served. She smiled her thanks to Rosmerta before responding. “Probably doesn’t mean anything, but I’ll look it up when we get back.”

“What’s all this now?” asked Ron.

“Oh, just some wackadoodle fanboy sending me bouquets of flower. Harmless really, but we’ve been entertaining ourselves by trying to puzzle it out in the language of flowers. So far it’s gibberish, though.” 

“Someone’s managed to get flowers past the Hogwarts wards?” he asked.

Hermione nodded, taking a swallow of her beer, rolling the tart sweetness around her mouth. “Minerva’s letting them through, though she’s screening the rest of the mail. Like I said, they’ve been harmless. And every few days he includes a rare flower that someone can make use of. No note?” she asked Neville.

“Not this time.”

“But that’s weird, isn’t it?” Ron continued. “I mean, most of those nutters quit after a few letters.”

“This one hasn’t. If it gets out of hand I’ll let Remus know. You know he’d got a new job at the DMLE, right?”

“Yeah. I saw him and Teddy at Mum and Dad’s before I moved out here. Merlin knows he’s qualified.”

“It’s a good thing too.” She lowered her voice. “It’s not public knowledge yet, but Tonks is expecting.”

“Already?” asked Ron. “You’d think she was a Weasley.”

“Isn’t the Weasley clan a relation of the Black family?” Hermione asked.

“All the pureblood families are related, Hermione. Technically Tonks is my third cousin, once removed. I think,” Neville said, taking a healthy swallow of his own beer.

Ron nodded. “Yeah. Second cousin here.” He lifted the beer to take a sip and paused. “Are they okay? With the baby, I mean.”

Hermione nodded. “A little surprised that it happened so quickly, but happy by and large. I think Remus is worried about how they’re going to handle two when Teddy is such a handful.”

“He is that,” Ron snorted. 

They passed another hour -- and another round -- catching up on gossip with the rest of the Order before Hermione finally made her excuses to leave. She hugged Ron and sent Neville a cheeky wave before making her way, only a trifle unsteadily, down Hogsmeade High Street and toward the castle. It was oddly deserted for a summer night; the only sounds Hermione could hear were crickets singing and the tree branches of the Forbidden Forest rustling in the distance. She was approaching the bend that would lead her toward the gates when the street lamps around her blacked out as if doused in water. Hermione gasped and fumbled for her wand.

She felt something brush by her sleeve and tug at her hair as she extricated her wand from her sleeve and near-shouted  _ Lumos Maxima _ as soon as she had it in her hand. There was no one near her. With a shudder she walked her way toward the gates, quickly slipping through them and into the relative safety of the school grounds.

It wasn’t until she was brushing her hair as she readied herself for bed that night that she noticed the jagged end of a hastily cut curl near her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my lovely, patient, LOVELY readers. Did I mention you're all lovely? 
> 
> Work is nutso again. We're over-booked on projects but -- and here's the good news -- we've been approved for another hire. So hopefully things will calm down a bit in the near future. Fingers crossed. (Normal workload for me is 8ish projects. I currently have 10 plus 2 departmental projects to improve processes. I'm very, very, very tired.)
> 
> In the meantime, updates are going to be slow. I'm trying my best to write when I get home at night, but lately I've just been zonking. So you have my apologies and my solemn promise to try to work more quickly.
> 
> In the meantime, I hope that this long chapter is a bit of what you were looking for.


	13. Layer Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Events in Hogsmeade ensure that it becomes necessary for Hermione to learn Occlumency.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still alive! And I'm still writing! I promise! If you wanna come hang out with me while I write tonight and Saturday, I'll be on ChatStep whilst I type. You're welcome to drop in and say hi! (I'm trying this out this week. If people show up and seem to like it, this will become a regular thing. Which should also translate to more regular chapters.)
> 
> Tuesday (11/29): 7PM - 11PM CST  
> Saturday (12/3): 1PM - 5PM CST
> 
> Delete the spaces and log in with the password: PersnicketyAO3  
> https: //chatstep.com/ #PersnicketyFics

“Professor Snape, can you please come through to my office?” Dumbledore’s voice rang through the floo. 

Severus jerked out of the supine position he’d occupied on the sofa in front of his fire for the last hour. It had been a quiet night with Hermione out of the castle. Until he sent her off for the weekend, he hadn’t realized just how many of their evenings they’d spent in his lab brewing. The quiet had seemed a welcome respite to her questions and clarifications until the evening hours lengthened into night. Then they had seemed sadly empty. Silent. Oppressive. He’d dozed off in front of the fire, book in hand ( _ Nightwatch _ \-- an excellent re-read), and thoroughly sick of his own company.

He scrubbed a hand over his face.  _ I need to find a hobby. _

“I’ll be through shortly, Headmaster.”

Severus rose and quickly fastened his teaching robes over the lounge pants and AC/DC tee that he’d worn for the evening on his own, then stepped through the fire into Dumbledore’s office. It took a moment before he spotted Hermione curled into an overstuffed armchair, half-hidden by the light of the fire and clearly distressed.

“Albus?” Severus queried.

“Miss Granger had a rather disturbing experience on her way back from Hogsmeade this evening, Severus. It would appear that someone accosted her, albeit not in a traditional way,” the elder man stated gravely.

Severus sighed before settling into the chair opposite his apprentice and leaning his elbows on his knees. “Hermione? What happened?”

She sighed tiredly. “I left Ron and Neville at the Three Broomsticks and walked back to the gates. Just before I go there, it went dark -- Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, probably -- and something brushed by me. Then nothing.”

“Nothing? You blacked out?”

“No, I mean nothing. There was nothing there. The darkness cleared and all was as it was before. Except when I got back to my rooms this evening and started preparing for sleep, I saw this.” She lifted a curl from the front section of her hair. The end was ragged and about a foot shorter than the rest of her curls, which extended past her mid-back. “I think whomever brushed by me must have cut some of my hair and then...left.”

“I see.” Severus glanced over at Albus and pressed his lips into a straight line. “You suspect polyjuice?”

“It seems the only logical conclusion,” Dumbledore replied. “I thought it best to enact protocol.”

“Protocol?” she echoed.

Severus nodded, turning back to meet Hermione’s worried eyes.  “The Headmaster is referring to a system that he and I developed during my time as a spy in Voldemort’s inner circle,” he said, moving toward a shelf for parchment and ink. “We wanted a way to ensure that a polyjuiced imposter did not return in my stead, so Albus adopted a simple method to use during my reports.” 

“The American Muggles call them paroles -- simple phrases to which only you should know the correct answer,” Dumbledore chimed in as Severus scratched out a series of questions on parchment. The younger man handed her the page when he was finished.

“We will create plausible answers to each of these questions. You will need to memorize the answers. Each time you return to the castle from an outside visit, you need to find either the Headmaster or me and check in. We’ll ask you one of these questions and you need to return the proper response. Clear?”

Hermione nodded wearily. “Like we did with personal questions during the war,” she replied. “That’s why the twins still append ‘wobbles’ to Molly’s name when they’re being cheeky.”

“I’d rather wondered about that,” Dumbledore chuckled tiredly.

Severus merely nodded. “Right. It would of course be best if you didn’t leave the castle unescorted, but I think it is unreasonable for us to lock you up on your own in the castle. For those occasions in which you venture out on your own, we’ll rely on these.” 

“ _ How was the Honeyduke’s fudge today? Did the apothecary have stewed newt’s eyes? _ But Severus, I didn’t even go to either of these places this afternoon,” Hermione said.

Severus waved a hand. “No matter. Think of how you might reply to that in a way that is memorable and not something that just anyone would reply. Plausible detail is good here.”

“Um. How about  _ The fudge was too expensive, so I just got some Ice Mice.  _ Or _ Yes, but most of the eyes had jellied by the time I got there.  _ ”

“Not bad, Miss Granger. I see you’ll have the hang of this quickly,” Dumbledore replied. “Now in wartime if Severus and I were in a public space and he needed to let me know something important, he would tell me that he’d caught a prefect wandering the corridors the previous night.”

Hermione emitted a half-hearted snicker. “Professor Snape often  _ did _ catch us wandering the corridors at night, Headmaster.”

“No, Hermione,” Severus corrected. “I often caught  _ a student _ wandering the corridors. If I caught  _ a prefect _ doing anything, Albus knew that I had urgent information for him.”

“And what if you really did catch a prefect wandering the corridor?” she asked.

“Hardly a matter that I would need to bring to the Headmaster’s attention unless it was a repeated offense. Or unless I caught them in a delicate situation. In which case, I would simply mention the student by name.” 

“So will I need one of those ‘urgent’ passphrases too?”

The Headmaster steepled his fingers and regarded the young witch over his half-moon spectacles. “No, Hermione. You will not. These paroles are simply to ensure that  _ you _ have arrived at the castle. Unfortunately, both Severus and I have been approached by several members of the Ministry about his  _ magicae remotio _ potion, which Severus -- quite rightly -- refuses to divulge. The Minister has become increasingly insistent and, might I add, ponderously purple in the face. As a former Auror who had done deep undercover work, we have been concerned that he might try to obtain the potion by other means. I believe, my dear girl, that you might be it.” 

  
  


✿HG/SS✿

 

Hermione and Snape left the Headmaster’s office with a copy of the list that they’d created. Three copies had been made -- one each for Dumbledore and Snape, and one for Professor McGonagall (who would be brought into the loop the next morning). Hermione was feeling disheartened about the entire affair.

“I thought we fought the war to prevent tyrants from running roughshod over us. What right does the Minister think he has to your intellectual property?” she asked as they dismounted from the spiral stair and walked through the castle’s main floor. By mutual consent, they walked not toward their wing of the castle but toward the school’s kitchens.

“He believes it was created using Ministry funds. It was not. The Headmaster funded my research personally so that any yields would be independent of the Ministry. This was done purposely as we did not know whether, even with his magic removed, the Dark Lord would emerge the victor from battle. I’m sure you can imagine the effects of such a weapon in the hands of Tom Riddle,” Snape finished solemnly.

She gave him a tight nod. “Muggleborns would have been rounded up, doused with the potion, and summarily eliminated.”

“Or ejected from wizarding society. Or used as playthings for the magical ‘elite’. The list of potential horrors is nearly endless, Hermione. Even in the hands of the current Ministry, who are by and large an effective and honorable government, the potential for misuse is high. Scrimgeour has already asked me to create a variation on the potion that would be permanent.”

“Please tell me you --”

He cut her off. “Yes, I refused. Vehemently.” He sighed as he stretched an arm forward to tickle the pair and open the door to the kitchens. With moments they were greeted and seated while elves bustled about gathering hot tea and chocolate, biscuits, and finger sandwiches for them. Hermione thanked them politely so that they would return to their duties.

Snape reached for a sandwich and devoured it in two quick bites. Hermione smiled inwardly, amazed as always to see that the potions master had a healthy appetite now that the war had ended. Hermione nibbled on her own sandwich as she pondered the new situation before her. “Why is the Minister so set on having the potion altered into a more permanent form? Can’t the potion just be reapplied at regular intervals. I mean, that’s how justice works, right? Removing magic would be akin to capital punishment. What if someone was proven innocent later and their magic couldn’t be restored?”

“And there you have hit the nail on the head, Granger,” Severus responded gruffly. “A permanent potion would be just as debilitating as the Dementor’s Kiss. It’s not something we can strike out and undo if we realize we’ve messed it up.”

Hermione nodded. “I can just imagine how it would be misused. I mean, you could have easily been jailed as a Death Eater as not, if it hadn’t been for the fact that the Order -- and Dumbledore in particular -- could vouch for the fact that you’ve been working for the Light for years. You could have had your magic stripped. It’s horrifying to think about.”

Snape made a grunting noise of assent. “I could cope with that. I was raised mostly as a Muggle and I have some savings. I’d be able to scrape along -- though I’d lose my business and any ability to make a living in our world. But imagine someone like Lucius Malfoy. Do you really think he would have fared so well without his magic? And he was rehabilitated within two weeks of the final battle.”

“It would be disastrous. You’re right, of course, to keep the potion from The Ministry. I wouldn’t trust them with it either. But you’re still brewing them the original formula?”

He nodded, reaching for a biscuit and dunking it in his tea. “I am. In very limited quantities. Which is why they’re persisting in their pursuit of the formulation. Eventually I’m going to have to share the formula with you, but in light of tonight’s events I hope you’ll forgive me if I delay that lesson for some time.”

“Delay it indefinitely. In light of tonight’s events and the fact that my stupid 'war hero' status will mean continued interaction with the Ministry, I think the less I know, the better.”

“That may not be an option. You’re going to need to know how to brew it as the Ministry will require steady supplies for some time yet. However, we will delay until you have learned to Occlude to my satisfaction. We’ll start your lessons Monday evening. I’ll have Zandi deliver some texts to your quarters tomorrow.” 

“Thanks,” she sighed. “You know, I thought you were joking when you told me all those weeks ago that you wanted to shut my brain up. I never actually believed Occlumency would become a necessity in learning to brew.”

Snape finished his tea and set the cup in the saucer with a decisive click. “Welcome to my world, Granger. Trust me, the longer you work here, the stranger it gets.”

 

✿HG/SS✿

 

As promised, the texts Severus had promised her were on the coffee table when Hermione emerged from her bedroom Sunday morning. She vowed to spend the evening working with them, but she had a mission for the day. She dressed for a day of brewing and quickly crossed first into her lab, then into Severus’ space. He was already there, hair tied back and wafting the steam from a cauldron toward him. 

“Needs more ginger,” he muttered, turning away from the door to grab the aromatic. 

Hermione waited patiently for him to finish his task before speaking. “I thought I’d stay in and do some brewing today. Is there anything in particular B. B. Brewing needs before I get started?”

“Contraceptive and pre-natal potions. Apparently the world has gone sex and baby-mad now that the war is over. B. B. had a run on them in the past two weeks and we’re dangerously close to selling out.”

Hermione smirked. “The latter was already on my list, actually. Tonks is one of the baby-mad ones.”

Severus smirked. “So Lupin has spawned another cub? Good on him, I suppose. Bit soon after the first one, isn’t it?”

“I understand it wasn’t exactly planned. Tonks and Remus mentioned something about the lycanthropy gene nullifying the contraceptive potion. And before you ask, the potions in question were in date and brewed by a competent master -- you. They asked me to talk to you about it.”

She watched as her mentor leaned and tapped the end of a stirring rod against his chin. “Interesting. And I assume that Lupin is trying to avoid spawning a whole litter. Very interesting. Lycanthropy gene interactions are fairly understudied -- hardly surprising given the size and general reclusiveness of the population. Yes, I can see how it might be difficult to...hm…” He traileld off in thought, staring at the bubbling cauldron for a long moment before snapping his eyes up to hers. “Granger, I do believe we’ve found your journeyman project.”

“We-- what?”

“You have two willing test subjects, a clear-cut problem, and an interesting solution to identify and implement. I’m not saying you’ll be successful, but it could well be a very interesting research question to pursue. It would also contribute to the field of lycanthropic scholarship. You could well establish a name for yourself there. What do you think?”

“Truth be told, I’m less interested in establishing a name for myself than I am in helping my friend have some control over her reproductive health. Tonks is a career woman. Being benched for nearly a year is going to have some nasty effects on her climb through the MLE.”

“There’s always a motive behind scholarship. You’ve found yours. I suggest we get to work in starting your research plan,” he said decisively.

Hermione huffed out a breath that was equal parts frustration and anticipation. “I wouldn’t even know where to start. This is fairly far out of the scope of my past projects in school.”

“Which is why the Potions Guild appoints Masters to oversee Apprentices. You’ll not be working on your own, Hermione,” he smirked. “That’s a surefire way to blow up yourself. And your lab. And that equipment is damned expensive to replace.”

“You’re all heart.”

“So I’m told. Well, since you’re forgoing your day off, why don’t you get to work on those potions, hm? Double batches of both, and then do a single batch of the cold weather nutritional variant. Fall is coming to the North countries. Never to soon to stock up. We’ll talk research plans later this week.”

“Work, work, work,” Hermione said good naturedly, heading back into her own lab.

“And if you’re going to play music, make it something halfway decent this time!” he called behind her.

With an evil grin on her face, Hermione queued up the campiest CD in her collection and set it to full blast. She had to muffle her laughter when she heard Severus snarl as the opening chorus number to  _ Jekyll and Hyde _ started to play throughout her lab. A little nudge to the door had it opening wide before she set herself to work.

 

✿HG/SS✿

 

It was dark by the time she reached his office on Monday night. 

“Did you read the books I set you?”

She nodded. “Yes, though only just. I haven’t had the chance to practice any of the meditation techniques yet.”

“That will not be a problem. Today is about assessing your natural abilities. We have the luxury of a less pressing schedule than the last time I taught this particular skill and, I assume, a more open and flexible mind to work with.” He sent her a slight smirk with the last comment.

Hermione merely raised an eyebrow. “Your particular pedagogical talents were, perhaps, not the most appropriate for a learner like Harry.”

“Been attending teaching lessons with Minerva, have we?” he snarked.

“I didn’t need to in order to make that assessment.”

“Yes. Well. Today I will attempt to penetrate your natural defenses. This way we will know what we’re working with. Prepare yourself.”

Hermione mentally braced, waiting for the telltale ‘twinge’ of mental magic against mental will that the first book Snape had given her described.

Rather than the expected twinge, Hermione felt what could only be described as an almost unctuous, sliding presence within her mental barriers. She took a deep breath and concentrated on a blank canvas, one of the meditation techniques she’d read about but not tried the night before. Snape’s probe into her feeble attempt to keep him out passed through her canvas like ink dispersing in water. She saw memories playing back in her mind: The heart-stopping terror of facing Death Eaters at the Ministry two years past. A quiet kiss and fumbling grope from Victor behind the blooming holly hedges of the Yule Ball her fourth year Raising her hand in potions class and waiting, always waiting to be called on (Snape lingered here and she could almost feel his amusement at her frustration).  A more passionate kiss and not-so fumbling grope two years later when Victor had been in London for the wizarding Olympic trials. 

Hermione felt her cheeks heat, knowing that her employer and mentor was observing a private memory that even Harry and Ron didn’t know of. She found herself focusing on her embarrassment, using that heat to drive a wedge between her mind and its connection to Snape. She visualized her mental landscape heating and slowly becoming inhospitable to the foreign visitor. With some relief she felt Snape withdraw.

He cleared his throat and turned away from her to straighten a pile of papers on his desk. “Not bad for a first try, Granger...but textbook -- your technique was easy to counter and would require you to have exceptional control over your emotions during an interrogation. However, most students of Occlumency don’t get that far the first time. I can work with this.”

Hermione pressed her hands to her pink cheeks, attempting to cool the flush on her cheeks that came from  _ Snape watching her kissing Viktor _ . “That’s fine,” she said uncomfortably. “Um...where should I start?”

“Throw out the meditation exercises. Blank canvasses, brick walls, empty fields -- all of it. Throwing up a visible shield only alerts the Legilimens to the fact that you are a skilled Occlumens and that you have something to hide. It will make him or her dig  _ deeper _ . Walls and shields only protect from the brute force attack anyway.”

She looked at him in confusion. “Then why did you attempt to teach Harry basic shielding?”

Snape scraped a hand through his hair. “I’m not saying that shielding isn’t useful. In Mr. Potter’s case, we did not have the luxury of time. He needed to learn to shield quickly and effectively, which unfortunately he did not have the mental fortitude to accomplish. It was, admittedly, a difficult situation that neither he nor I were equipped to deal with effectively.”

“I see. Thank you for that. Um...at some point in the future, it might help to let Harry know that too. He’s convinced he should never ever  _ try _ to learn Occlumency because he’s not suited for it.” Hermione fiddled with the edge of her sleeve as she said her piece, worried that she might offend her mentor before her apprenticeship was fully off the ground.

“Oh for fuck’s...yes, I’ll tell him. He’s going to be an Auror. Of course he needs Occlumency.”

“Right. I’ll mention he should talk to you after the next Order meeting.”

He nodded tightly. “Do. Now for  _ your _ practice, we need to work on layered Occluding. It is a more difficult technique to learn, but more useful for our purposes. It’s also easier to maintain subconsciously.”

“They books you gave me didn’t --”

“Yes, because it is a technique of Dumbledore’s invention and not widely known outside of Order circles. I’ll ask that you not teach it to anyone without the Headmaster’s consent.”

She met his eyes as he turned back toward her. “Understood. What is layered Occlumency?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. You will have multiple layers of memories, each submerged beneath the next. A surface scan of your mind will reveal nothing but the first layer. Deeper probes will reveal subsequent layers. It will take significant effort at a level impossible to conceal to reach the inner-most layer of your consciousness. You will likely pass out from the pain of the Legilimens’ efforts long before they can approach that layer. A fail-safe switch, as it were. The trick is not in creating the layers, but in concealing the strata from the Legilimens.”

Hermione blinked at Snape in astonishment. “Is that how you concealed your motives from Voldemort all those years?”

He sighed. “In part. The Dark Lord was, quite possibly, the most accomplished Legilimens in our world. I took...extra precautions with my consciousness that will be unnecessary in your case.”

“But what were they?”

“That is a discussion for another time, Hermione,” he said softly, a dark look passing over his face. “For now, I would like you to spend the next week ‘filtering’ your thoughts by level of priority. Learn to do so habitually so that it becomes a second nature exercise. Most thoughts -- the everyday things -- will remain on the surface of your thoughts. Others you will want to categorize differently. We’ll work on retaining and releasing the layers next Monday.”

Hermione understood dismissal when she heard it and said a quiet goodnight. Only when she’d returned to her own rooms did she pause and reflect that the look on Severus Snape’s face hadn’t been closed off or angry.

He’d simply looked...sad.

  
  
  
  
  



	14. Out Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus is a grump and takes it out on our heroine. Hermione and Severus both decide to take the weekend off for their mental health.

Severus was grumpy.

More than grumpy. He was grouchy, crabby, and irritable too.

He’d barely slept after his first Occlumency lesson with his apprentice, thanks in large part to the content of her thoughts. No sooner had he fallen into a deep sleep than he woke sweating through the pangs of a most acute hunger...and with the most insistent erection that he’d had since puberty. 

His mind had decided that no, dreams of topless women on beaches or the long and lazy days of his future retirement were insufficient in his resting state. Instead his subconscious had dredged up the image of Hermione Granger snogging Viktor Krum played on an endless loop. Naturally his brain, adept and creative as it was, decided to replace Hermione Granger’s body with the naked and considerably more well-developed form from her bathroom night terror so many weeks ago...and cast the role of Krum had been with no other than himself.

He wondered what it said that his body was subconsciously lusting after a woman who he’d only seen nude after she’d nearly drowned due to a nightmare caused by a cursed knife wound.

It was sick.

His cock really didn’t seem to care.

And so he’d risen -- for the second time, apparently -- from his warm bed at the ungodly hour of four in the morning and spent an ineffective hour attempting to placate the lower half of his body with calming tea and a good book. To no avail. He wondered if sudden priapism was common in wizards of their late 30s.

✿HG/SS✿   
  


Severus was grumpy.

More than grumpy. He was behaving like a pedantic sod, barking orders at her and sneeringly hovering over her cauldron. He’d found fault with the angle of her rutabaga slices, the freshness of her green onion hairs, and the fineness of her powdered bowtruckle scat. In short, he’d been a complete arse from the moment she’d stepped into the lab.

Hermione couldn’t help but notice that there were long shadows under his eyes or that his dominant hand, usually so steady when chopping and slicing and grinding, held a slight tremor that smacked of fatigue. She would have empathized had it not been for the generally menacing attitude that emanated from him as he whirled and minced his way around her lab.

“Miss Granger,” his dark voice growled in her ear, “if you do not cease daydreaming, I will assign you to simpler duties. Preferably those that do not have the potential to destroy the lab and its equipment. Kindly pay attention to your cauldron before your salamander blood boils over!”

She shook herself, returning her attentions to the Draught of Waking Beauty she was brewing for two of the specialty apothecaries that Severus supplied. It was a difficult brew, requiring to-the-second timing between boiling and cooling sessions, but it bestowed its imbiber with the “I just woke up like this” look that so many women sought to achieve. Of course, if brewed incorrectly, it caused the imbiber to sprout green hair from their genitalia and forked their tongue for a fortnight.

_ I suppose that look would be a choice too _ , Hermione smirked as she ticked off the seconds until her cauldron needed to move to the magi-chiller. 

Once the potion was cooling, she stopped to pour herself a short glass of water and re-secure her hair. A quick glance over her shoulder verified that her Master was glaring daggers at her.

“Have I said or done something to upset you, Severus?” she asked softly.

“I would never deign to inform the Heroine of the Victor’s Ball that she’d misstepped, of course,” he snapped in return. Hermione took that to mean she had made a mistake in the past twelve hours or so, but for the life of her she did not know what it could be. She hasn’t seen Severus since their Occlumency lesson the night before. He hadn’t even shown up for breakfast that morning, and looked the worse for it. Perhaps he had low blood sugar?

“Zandi?” Hermione called, feeling faintly foolish. She still didn’t understand how house elves managed to ‘listen’ all the time. It didn’t seem plausible.

“Apprentice Granger has asked for Zandi. How can Zandi serve?” The elf gave a jerk that might have once been a curtsey until Hermione had asked her to stop greeting her with such formality. 

“Would it be possible for you to bring some sandwiches, crisps, and a pot of strongly-brewed tea to my sitting room?” 

“This is no time for a break, Granger,” Severus growled.

The little elf hesitated, waiting to take her cue from Hermione. “Nonsense. It’s the perfect time for a break. Zandi, if you would?”

She nodded happily. “Of course Apprentice Miss. Right away.”

Hermione tugged at a loose tendril of hair nervously. “I’m still weirded out by how happy they are to serve,” she muttered, glancing at her mentor. “I’m hungry. The draught has another two hours in the chiller, so I’m going to eat. You’re welcome to join me.” Without waiting for a reply, she walked back into her rooms without waiting for an answer, taking care to leave her lab door open and to open the door into the hallway for propriety’s sake. She noted that Snape always had one eye on propriety when they spent any time in one another’s personal quarters.

She couldn’t say she was pleased when Snape joined her -- his company wouldn’t do much to aid her digestion, she knew -- but she was at least happy that she’d be able to find out what bug had crawled up his arse since the previous evening.

She waited as Zandi reappeared with their light lunch and set it on the little table outside her kitchenette. Without speaking Hermione gestured toward a chair, watching closely as Severus sat and began to load his plate with sandwiches and crisps. She sat and did the same, noting with a smirk that the crisps were salt and vinegar -- the favorite of a certain grumpy potions professor. They tucked into their lunch quietly, the silence broken only by the sound of crunching crisps and pouring liquid.

When Severus had finished his second sandwich, Hermione set her cup down and leaned back to regard him. “Are you going to tell me what I did that upset you so this morning?”

He shot her a dark look. “I -- You.” A sigh. “Nothing. You did nothing. I simply woke up...irritable.”

She snorted and popped half a crisp in her mouth. “That’s an understatement. You’ve been breathing down my neck like a Hungarian Horntail all morning. If I did something that set you off, I’ll apologize for it. Otherwise, do not take your moods out on me.” She shrugged and feigned a nonchalant air and picked up her sandwich to hide hands that wanted to shake. Though he treated her more as a colleague now, she still felt nervous taking him to task for behaviors that she found unacceptable. But...they would be working in close quarters for the next six years. She would begin as she meant to go on as she did not plan to spend that time muting her personality every time he woke up with a crick in his neck.

She was relieved that, rather than shouting at her or sneering, Severus looked taken aback. His cheeks flushed as he glanced down at his plate and awkwardly cleared his throat. Hermione continued to eat her sandwich, willing to accept his silence as the apology it wasn’t. For now.

✿HG/SS✿

Severus excused himself after lunch, choosing to retreat to his quarters, take a quarter-dose of dreamless sleep, and lay down for a nap. He couldn’t the last time he’d allowed himself to sleep during the day...at least, without involving recovery from illness or injury. The slide of the cool sheets over his body seemed incongruous and indulgent when he could see daylight filtering through his curtains. He closed his eyes, thinking that perhaps he had been a touch unfair to Hermione this morning. She was trying, after all, and he had her working on some of the most difficult commercial potions out there after only a six weeks as his apprentice. And it wasn’t her fault that he’d been single so long that mental images of two teenagers snogging would send his hormones into a tailspin. Perhaps he’d arrange a weekend off for himself in the near future. Attempt to rectify the situation.

He fell asleep with a little smile on his face.

✿HG/SS✿   
  


The week passed quickly. Hermione had managed two perfect cauldrons of Draught of Waking Beauty as well as ingredient preparation for the first week of classes. She breathed a sigh of relief when she trudged back to her rooms Friday evening, happy to be off her feet after a long day of dicing and slicing. She was caught up on her tasks for the brewing company. She was caught up on her reading for all of her side studies  _ and _ Occlumency. Severus had given her the  _ entire _ weekend off. Again.

She wasn’t going to question that last part.

It was time to cut loose. She felt as though she hadn’t gone and had fun for ages, and she knew just what to do. Harry was gathering the extended gang -- which now apparently included Draco, Blaise Zabini, the Weasley twins, Angelina Johnson, and Dean Thomas as well as the normal collection of bodies -- for a bit of a romp through Muggle London. They were going clubbing. Then they were going back to Grimmauld Place to generally carry on as though they were the reckless teenages they were. 

It would be  _ glorious _ . All she had to do was drum up the energy to shower, dress, and do her makeup. 

She groaned and levered herself off the couch, trudging her way toward the small cabinet in her bathroom that held an invigoration draught and tossing it back just as the floo sounded from her sitting room. “ ‘Mione, you there?” called Ginny’s voice.

“Bedroom!” Hermione shouted back. “Come on through.”

Ginny swirled out of the green flames clad in a lacy camisole top and equally lacy knickers. “I need to borrow a skirt!” she said. “I’ve nothing that’s right for a Muggle club. Have you got anything?”

Hermione sighed and shuffled her way toward the closet to find appropriate Muggle “club-wear” for Ginny and herself for the evening. She quickly pulled out one of her favorite outfits -- not that she had all that many -- and tossed it on the bed for herself. She then rooted around in her closet and emerged with a flirty, pleated mini-skirt in black with copper metallic threads woven though it. “How’s this?” she asked the redhead.

“Gods. Perfect. You’re a life-saver, you are,” Ginny said, pulling the skirt up and shooting a shrinking spell at the waistline. “I hate to borrow and dash, but I still need to do my makeup. You haven’t even started yet,” she said pointedly, finally looking at Hermione’s face.

“Just finished up in the lab for the day. I’ll hop in the shower and be ready in in an hour. See you at Harry’s?”

“Sure. Be quick about it though. Harry’s got a surprise for you at the house. Oh, don’t let Ron wear that Orange jacket thing again. He looked like he was going deer stalking last time.”

Hermione snickered. “Wait, what surpri --.”

She stopped talking at the sound of flames in the floo, then rolled her eyes. Typical Ginny. With a shrug, she whirled and wasted no time hopping into the shower to scrub the mingling scents of herbs, putrid bug parts, and potion fumes from her skin and hair. She raced through her ablutions, well aware that Neville and Ron would be at her rooms in an hour to floo to Harry’s.

Fifty-one minutes later she was showered, perfumed, made up, and had enough Sleakeasy in her hair to coat a small grizzly. She’d gone simple for the makeup. A dark burgundy lip, a smoky eye, and a double coat of mascara. She pulled on a black, sleeveless crop-top and a pair of burgundy leather pants slung low on her hips, and topped it with a light black jacket. Then she planted her feet in a pair of sky-high black heels with industrial-strength cushioning charms on them and called herself ready to go. Not a moment later, she hear Neville’s voice as he knocked at her door. “Hermione? You ready?”

She grabbed a small beaded purse with a light extension charm on it and raced to the door with a clatter of heels, flinging it open to see Neville and Ron -- both in dark jeans and simple button-down shirts. Thankfully neither wore orange.

Ron let loose a low whistle. “Damn, ‘Mione. Get a load of you!” her almost-boyfriend said with appreciation before giving her a quick hug. “You’ll knock ‘em dead tonight.”

“That was the general idea. I need to cut loose a bit. It’s been a week,” she said with a wry smile.

Neville give her a quick hug as well before pulling back. “Harry asked me to remind you about hangover fixes?”

“Oh! Good you reminded me! Nearly forgot. I brewed some a couple days ago, but they’re in Severus’ lab. Wait here a sec, ‘kay?” she said before making for her laboratory door. She clicked her way over the stone tiles and over to Severus’ lab, quickly spotting the little box of a dozen potions that she’d prepared and set aside for her use this weekend. She was just putting it into her purse when she heard the door at the opposite end of the room creak open.

She glanced over her shoulder to see Severus, clad in black jeans and black shirt, framed in the doorway. “Sorry!” she said. “Forgot the hangover potions for the gang tonight. I’ll be out of your way in a tick.” She finished shoving the box into her little purse, noting nervously that Severus had yet to say anything or move.

Finally he spoke, the timbre of his voice both low and annoyed. “Is that what Muggles are wearing for a night out with friends these days?”

Hermione turned and looked down at her admittedly tight pants and bared belly. “Um, for where we’re going, yeah. We’re going clubbing,” she said, as if that explained it all.

“You look like a tart,” Severus bit off.

Hermione’s chin came up and she leveled her mentor with a hard stare. “Not that it’s any of your business,  _ boss _ , but that’s rather the point. If you’ll excuse me, my friends are waiting. Have a good evening,” she finished curtly as she made for the door. 

“Miss Granger,” Severus started, looking like he wanted to say more.

She waited. “Yes?” she finally prompted.

“Please avoid becoming too inebriated in a public space. The Ministry doesn’t have many agents in Muggle London, but you must exercise caution.”

“Noted,” she said with a tight nod before making her way back to her rooms. 

Severus tilted his head slightly, watching her arse flex under the tight material of her pants. He’d gotten more than a bit of an eyeful of Hermione Granger clad for clubbing and it wasn’t going to help his subconscious nocturnal wanderings any. 

Not only did Hermione Granger have a rather delectable body, but at some point she’d been inked. Cherry blossoms had been riding high on her hip, just peeking out of the top of her waistline. It made him want to bed down and lick that spot right above her hipbone.

Severus shifted uncomfortably. He had  _ no _ business having such thoughts about an eighteen year old. A young woman who had, until recently, been in his charge. And a budding potioneer whom he was tasked with training.

The sooner he got to London and sought out his own fun for the evening, the better.

✿HG/SS✿

 

“ ‘Mione!” Harry cried as she, Ron, and Neville tumbled through the floo. 

“Harry. Merlin, you look gorgeous. Ginny’s going to have to keep tabs on you tonight,” Hermione said as she leaned in to give him a hug and a quick peck on the cheek.

Harry blushed. “Have you seen what she’s wearing? It’ll be the other way ‘round.” 

“Be still my heart,” Ginny said with a smirk as she came down the stairs. “Romantic sod, isn’t he?”

“Quite.” Hermione said it with a grin.

“Did you give Hermione her surprise yet?” Ginny asked while chasing her bracelet around her wrist trying to catch the clasp. “I told her you had one for her.”

“And I do love presents. Gimme gimme,” Hermione said jokingly. 

“Hmmm...let’s call it less a present than an exchange. Did you bring the goods?” Harry asked, nodding toward her purse.

“I did.” She opened the drawstring and withdrew the box of hangover potions. “Put them someplace safe where we can find them when we’re drunk off our arses later.”

Harry thought a moment. “Kitchen table then.” He traipsed off to set his bounty down before calling over the shoulder, “Your present is in the library!”

Hermione grinned. “Of course it is,” and turn to assuage her curiosity. A moment later an ear-splitting shriek sounded from the Black family library. “VIKTOR!”

Ron and Neville, who had been watching this exchange with some amusement, followed Hermione into the room to find their friend being lifted off the ground in a tight bear hug from the Bulgarian quidditch sensation. 

“Mya,” he rumbled in her ear, using the nickname he’d given her ages ago when he’d first found himself unable to pronounce her name. “You are more beautiful each time I see you.” 

“And you get bigger!” she giggled. “Merlin save us, Viktor. What training program do they have you on? You’re positively hulking,” she said, running her hand down his bicep as she drew back to look at him.

The Bulgarian grinned. “They vork me hard as always, but it keeps ze vitches happy, da? And vat are you vearing, Mya?” he asked with a teasing leer.

“If you call me a tart I’ll hex you?”

“Vy vould I hail you as dessert? I like it, very much,” he replied, reaching out a hand to brush at the lapel of her jacket. “And also I like,” he continued, brushing a gentle hand over the tip of her tattoo.

Hermione fought to control the shudder that Viktor’s hand elicited. “Please tell me you’re coming with us tonight,” she said breathily.

“He’s staying with us, ‘Mione. Viktor’s in town for the week. Negotiations,” Harry said from the door.

“Negotiations?” Hermione queried.

“I vill likely be joining the board of directors of the IQC as junior consultant,” he said, referring to the International Quidditch Confederation. “New blood, and an Eastern perspective. It vill mean I travel to Britain more often, da?” he said with a waggle of his eyebrow.

“That’s fantastic, Viktor, and such a wonderful use for your skills,” Hermione said, hugging him again. “I’m so proud of you!”

“Vell,” he said with an embarrassed shrug. “It is not yet final. But I haf tonight vith you and the others. Potter promises me a night vith Muggle dancink.”

Ron snickered and whispered in Neville’s ear. “The way he’s looking at Hermione, I doubt he’d notice a troop of naked Muggles dancing the polka in front of him.”

“Girls just wanna have fun, Ron. Hermione deserves to cut loose a bit.”

Ron snorted. “Only Hermione cuts loose with a bloody Quidditch star. Come on. I’ll make us a sandwich before we head out.”

✿HG/SS✿

 

Not far from Grimmauld place, Severus had was leaned against the bar of an old haunt, sipping at a short glass of whisky and watching the comings and goings of the pub’s patrons. He knew that he was not a traditionally attractive man -- though some women didn’t mind a large and obviously broken nose -- but he was lean, dressed in black, and had an ‘enigmatic’ air. Attracting a woman for the evening had never been much of an issue as long as he smelled good, managed some decently witty repartee, and remembered not to sneer too much. 

An occasional curl of the lip could be Brando-esque, but too much sneering and he’d look like he was trying to imitate a Muggle royal. Heaven forbid.

Halfway through his second drink of the evening, he knew he’d struck gold. A youngish woman came in dressed for an evening out, clearly the fifth wheel in a group of couples. As the couples canoodled, she elbowed her way to the bar and ordered a glass of Tullibardine single malt.

Severus raised an eyebrow and leaned toward her a bit. “They’ve a bottle of the burgundy cask finish behind the bar. I can recommend it, if you want a richer dram.”

The woman shot him a grateful smile. “I am, thanks. I’m Margot.” She stuck out a friendly hand as the publican poured her drink.

“Sev.” 

“All by your lonesome tonight?” she asked, flicking a glance up through her lashes as she sipped at her drink. “Oh, that is lovely,” she murmured.

“I prefer it to the Sovereign. And yes, on my own this evening. It wasn’t a night for staying in.” He tried a crooked smile, taking care to hide his teeth.

“You’re right about that. Unfortunately my date cancelled last minute on me so I’m stuck watching my friends,” she nodded her head across the bar toward two kissing couples, “celebrate their new engagements. It’s going to make for an awkward evening,” she laughed.

Severus widened his eyes. “I’ll say. How are you supposed to converse with that?”

“No idea.” She sipped at her drink again, considering him over the rim. “Why don’t you join us? You seem like a nice enough bloke to talk to and you know your whisky. I might just salvage some of this evening after all.”

_ Perfect _ . “Your friends won’t mind.”

“Nah. Honestly, I’m not sure they’ll notice, actually. And if they do, they love meeting new people. Come on Sev, no last name. Let’s make an evening of it, yeah?”

Severus gave her a small smile and nodded in acceptance, following her back to her table. A night out would make for a good distraction and if he was reading the signals right -- and he liked to think he wasn’t that rusty -- Margot was definitely up for more than some decent conversation. 

Things were definitely looking up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did promise a slow SS/HG burn, yeah? This is going to cover six years of an apprenticeship, so the SS/HG smut will take awhile.
> 
> But...that doesn't preclude other kinds of smut. Just sayin'.


	15. I Don't Feel Like Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and the gang are at the club...but so is Severus!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, lovely readers! It's a little too late for this to truly qualify as a Christmas gift, but I tried! I really tried!
> 
> I have deliberately written this kinda smutty scene badly. There's a reason for mediocre sex here, I promise.

This had clearly been a mistake.

Margot had seemed like a nice enough woman. Certainly a willing enough woman. He’d learned that she worked for a law firm as something called a “paralegal.” He wasn’t entirely sure what that mean, but he’d nodded his head and smiled as she explained her crazy boss and high-stress work environment. Her friends, once they’d ceased to their dementoresque face-sucking activities, had also been both welcoming and surprisingly good company.

They’d had their drinks. They’d had their dinner (a lovely pie, thank you very much). They’d had another round of drinks. Then they’d gone to a club.    


Severus didn’t really  _ do  _ clubs, but he decided that he’d be willing to give it a shot if it got Margot into his bed by the end of the night.

Which is how he found himself in Camden, crowded elbow to elbow with every assortment of Muggles that he could imagine. The music was -- he really wasn’t sure how to describe the music, actually. It  _ thrummed _ . Severus didn’t think he actually liked it, but there was something about the savage thumping of the drums that seemed to seep in through his pores. It made him want to walk up to the nearest female and grind himself against her like a cat in heat. 

It was disconcerting, to say the least.

They’d been there, gotten still  _ more _ drinks, and had found a low table to clamor around when he spotted her. His apprentice.

Hermione fucking Granger was in the club. Oh, Potter and his ilk were there too -- and Merlin’s beard was that  _ Draco _ ? -- but Severus’ attention zeroed in on Hermione first and remained there.

She was dancing. At least, he thought it might be construed as dancing. Her backside was pressed rather firmly against the her partner, whose face was thankfully obscured by the  riot of curls surrounding her head. The concealing jacket was long gone and he was being treated to a rather full view of her bared belly as  she swayed her hips back and forth. She was allowing -- fuck, she was  _ encouraging _ her dance partner to run his hands up and down her ribcage as their bodies pulsed to the music. Severus watched, dry mouthed, as those hands smoothed over the skin of her belly and briefly dipped into the waist of those skin-tight leather pants. Right where the branch of her tattoo ( _ When did she get a tattoo? And why is that so fucking sexy? _ ) trailed beneath the supple fabric.

He knew he was staring, but he couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away. He wasn’t entirely sure that he knew his apprentice any more.  _ This _ Hermione Granger had never set foot in his laboratory. Hell,  _ this  _ Hermione Granger was entirely too adult for his comfort. And, Gods,  _ this _ Hermione Granger was turning her head to snog her dance partner. Who was ( _ oh, fuck me _ ) Viktor Krum. 

Suddenly Severus understood what it meant to be simultaneously aroused and  _ insanely  _ jealous.

He had a half a mind to tell Krum to keep his hands to himself. In fact, that's exactly what he would do. Without thinking about it, he found himself rising from his seat in the obnoxiously small banquette and stalking toward the dance floor.

“Good idea, Sev!” he halted when he felt a tug on his sleeve as Margot’s hand slipped into the crook of his arm. “This DJ is  _ sick _ . Let’s dance before the song ends.”

Severus glanced down at his partner.  _ Right. Margot. The woman you may actually get to shag tonight if you don’t make an arse of yourself.  _ He shook himself in an attempt to get away from his apprentice sucking the face of Viktor bloody Krum in the middle of a  _ public _ dance floor and steered Margot toward a dark corner just as the music slowed to a more seductive, down-tempo number. He knew better than to attempt dancing like the Muggles or his apprentices and settled for grabbing his partner’s hips and pressing them together, front to front and moving in time to the music.

“Not much of one for subtlety, are you Sev?” she half-shouted at him over the throbbing bass.

He smirked and leaned down toward her ear. “I would think that, compared to the others on the dancefloor, this was considerably _ more _ subtle.”

She merely laughed and pressed herself closer, lacing her fingers around his neck and tilting her head back and closing her eyes as they moved together.

With eyes closed she entirely missed the fact that her date was staring toward a very different part of the club.

 

✿HG/SS✿

 

Hermione broke the kiss as the song slowed and sent Viktor a dark look from beneath her lashes. He’d turned her so that she was wrapped tightly in his arms, their pelvises pressed together as they moved to the music. She could feel his arousal through his pants and, Circe help her, the mere friction of his shirt buttons against the base skin of her torso was driving her mad. She tilted her head to nip at his bottom lip. “Want to get out of here?”

He laughed, a low husky chuckle that thrilled. “Vat ov Potter and others? Ve vill be missed. It is very rude, Mya.”

“They can sod off. Come and be rude with me, Viktor,” she purred in his ear.

“Mmm. Yes,” he rumbled, moving his hands lower to cup her arse and draw her into another languorous kiss. After a long moment he broke it whispered in her ear, “I vould like very much to come. And be rude.”

Hermione smirked and tossed her curls over her shoulder, allowing her hands to drift from Viktor’s neck, down his pecs ( _ whatever the Bulgarian team has him doing, they should keep it up! _ ) and down his arms to grasp his hands. “Come, then,” she said softly. She led him off the dance floor and caught Harry’s eye as he sat with Ginny in the group’s banquette across the room. She jerked her head toward the door and sent him a little wave, which was acknowledged with a wry smile. No, they wouldn’t be missed.

It was the work of minutes to find an alley and disapparate back to Grimmauld Place, and a minute more before they were upstairs and in her room. Door shut and locked. Room silenced. Candles lit.

Viktor was still stripping out of his shirt when Hermione reached up and pulled his head toward hers. “You are in a hurry, Mya,” he growled into her mouth. 

“It’s been months since I last saw you,” she moaned in return, relishing the feel of his hands as they snaked under her top. 

“And yet, I see you are vith your Professor, the grumpy one, now?” he asked with a teasing smile as her hands made quick work of the catch of his trousers.

“Gods, Viktor, don’t bring him up  _ now _ . Or that fucking newspaper. Just...shut up and touch me. Please,” she breathed, pressing her breast more firmly into his hand.

He bent to nip at her neck, drawing a sharp gasp out of his sometimes-lover as his teeth left a red mark on her soft skin. “Yes. Now is not the time for talking.” 

They removed the remainder of their clothes slowly, savoring the slow reveal of muscled forearm, the chiseled line where hip met abdomen, a rounded bottom, the swell of a breast.  At last they were both bare, skin glowing in the candlelight.

Hermione traced her finger down the center of Viktor’s sternum and toward his navel, smiling as her finger skipped over the ridges and bumps that were the reward of his long hours of physical training. “You haf found something you like?” he rumbled in her ear.

“Mmm...yes. Harry talks about you all the time, you know. ‘Not the typical Seeker’s build.’ All I can say is, thank Merlin for that. I just want to lick you.”

Viktor’s lips quirked up in a lusty half-smile. “And vat is stopping you, witch? I haf no objections.”

“I bet you don’t,” Hermione murmured, pressing an open mouthed kiss to his nipple and swirling her tongue around his peak. Something inside her positively purred at the groan she received for her efforts. 

“Lower, vitch. Gods, lower.”

With a little smirk, Hermione allowed her hand to trace over his body and followed it with her mouth until she was on her knees before him. With little hesitation, she leaned forward and took Viktor into her mouth, moving her tongue over the head of his erection in a slow swirl intended to drive him mad. He grunted and threaded his fingers through her hair, tilting and guiding her head so that he could thrust gently into the warm depths of her mouth. 

Hermione closed her eyes and relaxed  her throat, allowing Viktor to take charge of their encounter. Though they had been only occasional lovers over the past eighteen months, she was used to the fact that he struggled when she attempted anything outside of his (sadly limited) comfort zone. Not that she minded much. The man knew what he was doing in the bedroom. Or, at least, she assumed as much considering she’d never been with anyone else. It just would have been nice to try something new every once in awhile.

Her temporary distraction was broken when she heard Viktor moan, “Fuck, yes Mya. Yes. Bed vith you. Now.” It was adorable, really, how his English skills were reduced to monosyllabic grunts when he was in a passion.

Hermione crawled onto the bed and flipped onto her back, bracing her feet on the mattress as Viktor crawled after her. She didn’t have to wait long for him to line himself up with her cunt and sink into her depths. She moaned at the feeling of fullness, canting her hips the way he liked as he began to thrust home. It was lovely, really.

Viktor fisted a hand in her hair again, drawing her face upward. “Look at me as I fuck you. You are mine tonight.” 

“Yes. Yours tonight,” Hermione hissed in response, gasping slightly at the friction of his forceful thrusts. This part was always somewhat  _ less _ lovely. She noticed that Viktor had begun to speed up slightly, a sure sign that he was a minute away from coming. She moaned his name, raking her fingers down his biceps to bring him on.

“That’s right, witch. Yes. Yes. Oh, Mya. I’m going to -- “

“Say my name, Viktor. Please.” Hermione said breathily in his ear.   


“Her - mi - o- nee!” the Seeker shouted before losing all control and collapsing on top of her.

She traced patterns on his back as she waited for him to regain his breath, laying still in the darkness and relishing the weight of the man on top of her. It wasn’t love. It wasn’t even a relationship. But it was satisfying, in its own way.

Long after Viktor had fallen asleep, Hermione stared into the quiet of her room and wondered why it all felt so...off.

 

✿HG/SS✿

 

“Oh, Hermione!” He shouted it as he spent himself inside the woman whose hips bucked beneath him.

“What the fuck? Out! Get out of me. You  _ arse! _ I’m not some bloody substitute fuck, you prick!”

Up in Harrow-on-the-Hill, Severus was in a very different apartment, shaking his head in bewilderment as Margot pushed him from her bed, kicking at him until he landed in an ungainly heap on the floor. “I -- what? What did I say?” he gasped, still panting from his exertions.

“Just get out!” Margot said, turning her head away from him as he fumbled for his pants.    


He thought. Had he shouted…? No. He couldn’t have. Could he? Fuck.  _ Fuck _ . “It was a mistake. I’m sorry,  _ Margot _ ,” he said, emphasizing her name.

She scoffed at him, sniffling as she sat up and drew on a robe. “Right. Like that’s going to fix it. And I thought you might actually be a fucking gentlemen,” she hissed.

Severus shook his loose hair out of his eyes, ashamed that he’d been so undisciplined. “I -- I can’t apologize enough. I hope you understand this is no reflection on you. You’ve been lovely, all evening.” He tried not to grimace as he said the word  _ lovely _ . “And I thoroughly enjoyed my time with you.”

She snorted. “Right.”

“I just with I could --”

“Just go,” she whispered, closing her eyes against the tears that threatened. She watched as Severus started moving toward the door before calling after him. “I hope you sort yourself out with your Hermione, Sev. But don’t call me when you do.”

Severus pulled up slipped out the door and into the darkness, apparating away from the empty street and toward Hogsmeade.

 

✿HG/SS✿

 

Severus walked through the entrance to the castle, hoping to make his way to his rooms without notice so that he might sulk in peace. He was lost in his own thoughts, confused as to how he could have shouted the wrong fucking name during sex. _I don't even like the witch!_ he thought as he stomped through the castle. _At least, not in that way. It's hardly my fault she has invaded my lab. And my home. And my fucking dreams on occasion, but I cannot be blamed  for my subconscious. Dammit!_ He nearly groaned aloud when he spotted Dumbledore walking down the corridor.

“Severus, my boy! I wasn’t expecting you back until Sunday! Come up, come up. Have a drink with an old man.”

“Good evening Albus. I was going to retire shortly, if you don’t -- “

“Nonsense! We haven’t had one of our chats  in ages. No excuses, Severus. Come along!” he said, jostling the younger wizard along and into his office and pouring him a healthy measure of cognac before settling into a plush armchair near the fire. He looked at the dark man with a twinkle in his eye. “I sense you had a less than optimal evening.”

Severus rolled his eyes at his old friend and sipped at his drink.

“Come now, Severus. You’ll feel better for talking about it.” Dumbledore tilted his head toward his longtime friend inquiringly. “Surely it can’t be as bad as anything you experienced during the war? You needn't worry about any judgement on my part.”

The younger man sighed and released his normally rigid posture, slouching into my chair. “It’s nothing to worry over, Albus. Just a...mishap whilst I was out in Muggle London this evening.”

“Attempting to relieve some tension?” Albus asked knowingly.

“Hmph. Yes, something like that. I have taken little time for frivolity since the final battle.”

“Of course, Severus. You do deserve the time for a bit of fun after the past year. Why, you've nearly lived the life of a monk since last summer!" the older man said with an eyebrow waggle. "And I would imagine that working in the close company of a vivacious young apprentice might highlight any slight lack in your own personal life,” Albus replied with that damnable twinkle once again. 

Severus groaned, rolling the cool glass of his snifter against his head. “Please do not mention Miss Granger at this juncture.”   


The older wizard quirked an eyebrow and smirked in a way reminiscent of his potions master.  “Oh dear, Severus. Part of the problem?”

“Get out of my head, old man!” Severus snarled.

“I hardly need employ Legilimency when your emotions are written on your face. What’s the matter with Miss Granger?”

“Nothing at all, Albus. She has been an exemplary apprentice since joining the staff.” 

“But…?” the Headmaster prodded.

“But I have been working in isolation too long, that’s all. She and her friends were, unfortunately, at the same location as my date and I when we entered Muggle London this evening. Her presence disturbed my thoughts, that’s all.”

Dumbledore chuckled. “I can imagine having one’s former student and current apprentice able to observe her mentor’s date would be rather disconcerting indeed.”

“Yes! Exactly. I’m afraid I allowed it to interfere with my um...concentration later in the evening. My date was understandably insulted and asked that I leave. It ended the evening on rather a sour note.”

“Oh, my dear boy. What  _ did  _ you do?” the Headmaster asked, leaning toward his friend.

“I’d rather not go into it, Albus. Suffice it to say, I am tired and mildly cranky. I would like to retire to my chambers and attempt to purge my date -- as well as the mental image of Miss Granger’s provocative behavior with  _ her _ date -- from my mind.” Severus drained his drink and set it on the table with a clink.

“Well, I can’t fault you for that, Severus. By all means, seek your rest. I do have a question for you, though.”

“Is it about the cauldron order for the new year? I assure you, it is very necessary.”

“No, no. I agree your request there was justified. I was just wondering...do you find Miss Granger attractive?”

“What are you insinuating, Albus?”

“Nothing, my boy! Forgive my curiosity. But you haven’t answered my question.”

“In the abstract, perhaps. Miss Granger has grown into a lovely young woman, so yes I find her attractive. I am not, however, attracted to her, if that is what you’re asking.” Severus schooled his features to impassivity. 

“It would be no problem, if you were, Severus. Hermione is not your student any longer.”

Severus turned from the door to face his employer fully. “Albus, let me be clear. Miss Granger may be an attractive young lady, but she  _ was _ my student a mere two months ago. She is my apprentice, a position that means I must supervise her learning and approve her accomplishments before the accreditation board. I am also her employer as she works for my brewing company. I pay her a salary. I spend nearly every day with her in close quarters. AND I am nineteen years her senior --”

“Eighteen, I believe.”

“What?”

“The time turner from her third year. She aged twenty-five months in that year, so I believe her physical age is now closer to twenty now,” Albus stated reasonably.

“Fine. I am  _ eighteen _ years her senior. That hardly makes a difference. I am a former spy. A former death eater. A murderer and a liar. Attraction to Miss Granger would make no difference as I would not, could not in good conscience pursue that attraction.”

“I notice, Severus, that you named several good reasons why any pursuit of Miss Granger would require forethought and caution. And I do not think your age would be as much of an obstacle as you might think, though of course  I respect your opinions on the matter. I must, however, disagree about your assessment of your own character. What you did -- all of what you did in service of the order -- is heroic. You are no murderer, Severus Snape, nor are you broken or dark or any of the other epithets I have heard you utter over the course of our time together. I wish you could accept that.”

Severus inclined his head. “As you say.”

“Now then, if you have not attraction to Miss Granger then this conversation is a moot point. But if your only reservation is that she is in your employ and in the employ of the school, then I will point out that the ethical dilemma is not nearly so fraught as you might think.”

“It is not the only reservation, and I have no interest in pursuing Miss Granger in such a fashion Albus. Merlin, man! Do you  _ want _ me to pursue her? Was this apprenticeship some misguided attempt at matchmaking on your part, old man?”

“Of course not! You know as well as I that Hermione is well qualified and that to deny her -- or Mr. Longbottom, for that matter -- this opportunity would be a sad waste of her potential. No, my boy. I simply want you to know that the limitations you set on yourself are not limitations at all. If you have no interest as you say then we may simply drop the subject.”

“ _ Thank you _ . I do not wish to revisit this conversation in the future, Albus,” Severus stated warningly.

“Understood. Now off you go. It’s far past  my bedtime and, I’m sure, past yours as well.” Albus waved benignly at the departing figure of the potions master before sighing and closing his office door.

“Screwed that one up right and tight, didn’t you Albus?” said the voice of an amused Phineus Nigellus. 

Dumbledore slanted a look at the sneering portrait and quirked a smile. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. If nothing else, I planted a few seeds. I just have to wait and see if they bloom.”

“Is that how a Gryffindor plants seeds?” the former Headmaster scoffed. “So obvious. When will you ever learn the art of subtlety, Albus?”

“Why on earth are you trying to pair those two off?” Edessa Sakndenberg chimed in from her portrait on the opposite wall. “Master Snape had some excellent points about their incompatibility, Albus. This hardly seems a fruitful or dignified endeavor on your part.”

“I have my reasons, Edie,” Dumbledore replied. “Severus deserves some happiness in his life, and I know of no one so intellectually well-suited to him as Hermione Granger. She will challenge him -- well, she already does -- and he her. But I miscalculated. Despite acknowledging her physical attributes, Severus is hardly ready to attend to the actual attraction to the girl. It is far too soon and she is still far too young,” he muttered. “But an apprenticeship last six years. There is time yet. Yes, plenty of time yet.”

The portraits -- at least, those who were not snoozing -- rolled their collective eyes at Albus’ plotting, knowing all to well that he was far too invested to be called off at this point. 

At least the Granger chit’s relative youth had earned the fated pair a reprieve for the time being.


	16. Let's Give 'Em Something to Talk About

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Severus deal with the aftermath of their respective nights out.

“Morning.” George said to Hermione as she slid into a chair at Grimmauld place, taking care to waggle his eyebrows suggestively over his coffee cup as he drew the word out.

Hermione barely refrained from rolling her eyes at the implied innuendo. “Good morning, George,” she said crisply, reaching for the toast rack before Kreacher managed to get it onto the table. She needed tea and toast immediately, if not sooner.

“And how was your evening, darlin’?” the red-headed twin asked. “Enjoy ourselves, did we?”

“It was a lovely evening, thank you. I enjoyed the club,” she said primly around a bite of toast. “And you?”

“Hmm,” he said leaning back in his chair. “Freddie, Angie and I came back a bit early and poured a nightcap before the rest of the gang joined us.” He took a contemplative slurp of his coffee. “Can I make a suggestion, love?”

Hermione winced as she sipped her too-hot tea. “What’s that?”

“Silencing charms. Worth their weight in gold, those are.”

Hermione felt her face heat as she stared at the cooling remains of her toast. “George?”

“Yes?”

She peeked up at him through her lashes. “If you and your brother know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your mouths shut until I’ve returned to Hogwarts tonight.”

A slow smile stole over his face. “I’m hurt, Hermione. It’s like you don’t know us at all.”

 

✿HG/SS✿

 

Two hours later, Hermione slammed into her bedroom and grabbed for her purse. “That’s it! I’m done with the moron twins!”

Viktor sat up from his nest of pillows, balancing his book on his chest. “Vat has upset you, Mya?”

“Fucking Weasley twins!” she growled, shoving her clothes from the previous evening into the magically expanded object. “Couple of right arses, making comments about my sex life at every turn!”

Viktor sat up. “Vy are they interested in vat ve do up here?”

She shot him a look. “They came back early last night. And we didn’t silence the room.”

Viktor rolled his eyes. “And? So ve had sex. It vas loud. Good sex should be loud.”

_ And that should have been good sex,  _ Hermione thought with a mental sigh.  _ We were only loud because I faked an orgasm to get you to finish. _

“Yes, well.” She shrugged helplessly. “I’m not enamored of the idea that everyone could hear me shouting your name last night.”

His dark eyebrows beetled at that. “Everyone?”

“The rest of the gang returned in time to hear round two,” she said a bit sheepishly. “They haven’t shut up about it all morning. Ginny keeps moaning ‘Oh, Viktor’ every time she walks past the library. I heard that!” she grumbled as Viktor failed to contain a snerk.

“Your friends are teasing you because they love you, Mya,” Viktor said soothingly, running his hand down her arm. “And likely Fred and George are jealous. I doubt Angelina is sleeping with the short twin too.”

She glanced at him. “The short twin? They’re the same height.”

“Vell, he looks short to me,” Viktor shrugged with an unrepentant grin.

She plopped down on the bed. “I hate being teased. It’s like our Hogwarts antics just got extended to the real world. We’re all functioning adults now with jobs. Can’t we let the juvenile stuff go a bit?”

“And you think adults do not haf jokes?” he asked. “Vat is ‘adult’ anyvey, Mya? Your friends love, so they tease. I tease my friends in Bulgaria. And here too. It is the way of friendships.”

She shifted uncomfortably. “Maybe. I just...I don’t always like it. Not about my sex life. About my nose always being stuck in a book, sure. Or my horrid cooking skills. I don’t mind those things. But I wish they had the decency to shut their mouths about my sex life.”

He flipped onto his side and ran his finger over the back of her hand. “May I suggest that ve make enough noise to shut all mouths? If they won’t stop talking about your bedroom activities, ve should at least give them something interesting to tease you about.”

Hermione slanted a look at her lover. “Hmm...feeding the beast, are we?”

His answering grin was quick and crooked. “Come here, Mya, and let me show you beast. I vill make you scream again.”

Hermione smirked and crawled over his recumbent form with a mental shrug.  _ Well, I don’t object to him trying _ .

 

✿HG/SS✿

 

It was gone eleven when a thoroughly shagged out, if ultimately unsatisfied, Hermione flooed into her quarters with Neville and Ron (who had blanket permission from Dumbledore to stay the night whenever invited). Hermione bade the sleepy couple a good night before heading into her lab to retrieve her planner and glance over her schedule for the next day.

“And what time do you call this?” said a dark voice from the doorway. 

She glanced up to see her mentor leaning against the stone arch, glowering at her from his own dimly lit laboratory. “I call it late and not a time for conversing, Severus. I have an early morning lesson with Fillius and a great deal of brewing for you tomorrow and need to sleep.”

He snorted. “Then perhaps you should take care to arrive earlier when I am generous enough to give you a weekend of liberty,” he said with a curl of the lip. “I have been waiting for you to check in for over three hours.”

Hermione froze, setting her planner down and clinking empty vials together in her haste. “Shite. I forgot.”

“So it would seem. And how was Mr. Potter this evening?”

Hermione wracked her brain for half a moment before reciting her reply. “He couldn’t find his jumper so we were running late.”

“I’m sure I’m sorry to hear it. Then I’ll leave you to what will no doubt be a productive evening of ingredient preparation after such a weekend of utter frivolity,” Severus stated coldly. “You will need a pound each of powdered doxy wings, fruit bat fang shavings, and crab grass clippings for tomorrow’s brewing session.” A twitch of his wrist sent the raw ingredients from his lab to her workbench.

“But -- “ she paused.

“Yes?” he said, voice deceptively sanguine.

“I understood that I would be preparing bases for the fifth year poisons and antidotes demonstration tomorrow, then finishing lesson plans. You’ve just listed the ingredients for acne solution. That’s a first year potion.”

Severus quirked an eyebrow. “So I have. You will be doing all of the above. Best get started,” he sneered, “as you will want to get enough sleep before our work tomorrow.” And without further comment, Severus disappeared into his own lab -- one could only assume to sleep whilst his apprentice spent the next few hours grinding bits and parts into a fine flour.

Hermione looked at the pile of potions ingredients in front of her before heaving a sigh and fetching her mortar and pestle. She couldn’t help but wonder whether this was some form of punishment, though for what she could not fathom. 

“I wonder what bug crawled up his arse?” she muttered before setting to work.

 

✿HG/SS✿

 

“Granger!” Severus barked. “Pay attention to your cauldron, you daft girl! You’re about ten degrees away from an explosion.”

With a little squeak, Hermione straightened and rushed toward her cauldron and turned down the flame to allow it to cool. The neon orange goo in the vessel quickly settled down into a gentle simmer and she breathed a sigh of relief before checking on her other brews. “Sorry, Severus. My reaction time is a bit off today.”

“The laboratory is no place for your apologies or your negligence. If you aren’t well enough to pay attention, you should not be in the lab. Clearly you are not responsible enough to handle a weekend of liberty,” he said in clipped tones.

That was it. Hermione was sweaty, hungry, utterly exhausted, and very near tears. The last thing she needed was a grumpy Potions Master needling her. She chose anger over the threatening sobs. “Had I known I would need to prepare ingredients upon my return, I would have taken care to come back much earlier, Severus,” she bit off. “It’s hardly my fault you neglected to inform me of your change to our brewing plans for the week. I was up past three preparing your ingredients and had an eight o’clock lesson with Filius -- which did  _ not _ go well, thank you very much. So kindly keep your more unhelpful comments to yourself,” she finished with a huff.

Severus looked momentarily nonplussed before his lips twisted into his trademark sneer. “I’m so sorry, Miss Granger, for interfering with your  _ valuable _ social schedule. I was under the impression that this apprenticeship would be your focus. It is, after all, a paying job. But if you feel that you cannot dedicate your time and attention to learning your craft, by all means there is the door.” He gestured with one elegant hand toward the door leading to the dungeon hall.

Hermione’s eyes widened fractionally before she shut them and drew in a deep breath through her nose. Then another. “Severus,” she began in a voice that trembled with fatigue and barely restrained fury, “you’re being a right bastard this morning and I don’t know why. If I have in any way indicated that I want to bring an end to my apprenticeship, let me correct the assumption. I like the work. I even like working for you, when you’re not being a git. But we agreed early on that our work would be one of mutual respect -- an agreement that you have chosen to ignore all damned morning.” She continued before he could speak. “I will not be trod upon. I will not be abused. You granted me a weekend off and I took it, returning before the weekend ended. I completed my assignments first and left both labs spotless. I discharged my duties before leaving and as far as I know, my only mistake was that I neglected to check in upon my return. I’m working with delicate ingredients on an assignment that you saw fit to change at the last minute, and I’m doing so on four hours of sleep. What. Exactly. Do. You. Want. From. Me?”

One brow raised, Severus replied sourly, “I simply want you to grow up, Miss Granger, and behave like the adult you are purported to be. Return to your cauldrons before they spoil and you waste the expensive ingredients that you stayed up  _ so late _ to prepare.” He turned as if to leave before whirling toward her once more. “And I will remind you who is the master her and who the apprentice...and just who pays your salary and guarantees your continued presence in this laboratory.”

Bristling at the implication that she had somehow acted irresponsibly  _ and  _ inappropriately, Hermione ground her teeth and returned to her cauldrons as Severus stormed out of the room and toward his office. With a sneer that would have done her Master proud, she flicked her wand toward the CD player in her own lab and let Nirvana fill the room as she attended to her duties. 

Her lips curled into a feral grin when the office door slammed shut.

She spent the next three hours preparing her brews under a constant stream of muttered expletives and dire promises. 

_ I shouldn’t have snapped at him. You don’t fight fire by pouring fuel on top. Perhaps this was a mistake. Some dogs can’t learn new tricks. Some leopards can’t change their spots. And some Potions Masters will always be right bastards. I’ll need to grow some thicker skin if I’m going to get through the next six years. _

She frowned as she stirred her cauldron 14 times anticlockwise before adding a pinch of pickled tansy root to the brew, losing herself in the mechanical rhythm of her actions while she contemplated how best to contain her anger the next time Severus decided he was in a foul mood. 

She was wiping her stirring rod off at the lab sink when the thought stuck.  _ Occlumency. Of course. One occludes to hide their emotions from others, but in the process the emotions are consciously subsumed under more tranquil thoughts. If I can learn at least the basic forms of occlumency, I can employ it while brewing and prevent myself snapping at him again.  _

She moved toward her personal potions store and selected an invigoration draught. She needed to go to the library.

 

✿HG/SS✿

 

He  _ knew _ he was being an arse. He  _ knew _ that Hermione hadn’t actually done anything wrong other than fail to check in with him. Though her cheek had been annoying. And predictable. And enticing.

_ Stop it _ . 

That didn’t seem to stop him from feeling angry at her continued presence in his lab, in his life.

It certainly didn’t stop him from fervently wishing he’d sent her on an ingredient gathering assignment to outer Mongolia until he could get his head sorted out. 

The weekend away from Hogwarts was supposed to take care of his itch.  Clearly he’d been spending too much time cooped up with his apprentice. She was the only female under eighty in the castle -- of course she was a presence in his consciousness. But it was unreasonable, really, that she should invade his subconscious through his dreams. 

His talk with Dumbledore the previous evening certainly hadn’t helped either. To think, the man was encouraging Severus to pursue the chit! What on earth was he thinking? Severus hadn’t slept well for two night because of it, his subconscious all too happy to populate his semi-waking mind with images of a certain curly-haired witch in his arms. Well, that and because every time he closed his eyes he heard himself moaning his apprentice’s name and woke with a raging erection.

What the fuck?

It was completely irrational.  _ Hermione Granger is swotty, bossy, admirably sneaky, and occasionally humorous young woman of nearly nineteen (Dumbledore had been a bit vague on years turned, but the woman couldn’t be physically older than twenty) _ . Was she attractive? Yes now that she’d grown into that hair and those teeth. Did that mean he should be attracted  _ to _ the chit? Absolutely not! He’d taught any number of attractive, intelligent women over the years and not once had he ever woken up with the desire to be  _ in _ one of them. 

_ Except that one time. _ But that didn’t count as he’d been higher than Voldemort in a celebratory mood on Pepper Up at the time. 

The point was that Severus Snape did NOT lust after students. Or apprentices, not that he’d ever had one before. He’d needed to find a way to assert some control over the situation. The answer was obvious: anger the woman so she avoided him, thus absolving himself of culpability in the situation. Except the girl -- woman -- girl wouldn’t back down! She gave as good as she got and then went right back to brewing. The situation was ludicrous.

Not that it was her fault.  _ But still! _

_ It’s not like she’s dating Viktor Krum to make you jealous. _

_ Because I’m not jealous _ , he snorted in his head.

_ Severus, you are so completely fucked. _   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. It's short. Like, way shorter than my normal chapter. And also oh, so late.
> 
> I have been so bloody sick guys. I had a cold, then got better and had to do all kinds of catching up at work. And then I got the damn flu AND bronchitis. 
> 
> WTF?
> 
> I haven't been writing much as a result. Something about dizziness and body aches and constant coughing did not inspire me to write love stories. But I'm (nearly) mended, we have a great new gal at work who is super brilliant, and I'm writing again. 
> 
> So here's a short chapter to tide you over while I get cracking on the next chappie of RwaV. Love you all and thanks for your patience.


	17. Compromised

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus notices that something is off with his apprentice.

The first week of classes arrived far sooner than either Severus or Hermione expected and their days quickly became a whirlwind of classroom preparations and lesson planning. Hermione, for her part, kept largely to herself leading up to September first, staying in her room and reading whenever she wasn’t in Severus’ or her personal lab. However, by the end of that first week of classes -- which left both the Potions Master and his apprentice exhausted -- Severus realized that there was something decidedly odd about Hermione’s behavior.

She’d largely stopped speaking to him unless it was about their work.

In fact, she’d largely stopped speaking to  _ anyone. _

Upon reflection over his tea and book one evening, Severus realized that Hermione hadn’t been by to share their evening cuppa. She wasn’t spending time with Longbottom. She hadn’t been to Hogsmeade. As far as he could tell, she was holing up in her room every evening and not emerging until morning. At meals she was reticent and silent, not even engaging in speculation about the origins of the flowers she continued to receive on a near-daily basis. 

Normally he wouldn’t worry, but when someone as sociable and...talkative as Hermione Granger went radio silent, as it were, it was enough to spark some concern. Particularly in light of recent events. With a nod to himself, Severus strode to the hearth and called for Albus.

“Severus, my boy!” the man said, twinking. “What can I do for you this evening?”

“May I come through, Albus? I have a concern I’d like to discuss.”

“Of course.”

Severus stepped through the flames and into the Headmaster’s office, taking a moment to brush himself off before sitting across from Albus’ desk.

“You’re wearing your concerned face, Severus. Don’t tell me we’ve already gone through this year’s apportioned cauldron supply?”

“No, nothing like that. The first years this term seem to be less inclined toward explosive flammability than the normal crop of new students.” He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, steepling his hands against his lips. “It’s about Miss Granger, actually.”

Albus’ brow furrowed. “Hermione? Why, what’s wrong?”

“I’m not sure how, but I believe she may have been compromised. Have you not noticed her odd behavior of late?” 

The older wizard shook his head. “No, she has seemed as studious and dedicated as ever, if a bit quieter than is her wont.”

“Exactly. Albus, she has stopped leaving the castle. She has stopped communicating with me or any of her friends. She works, then hides away in her rooms until it is time to work again. Surely you can see that these behaviors are somewhat unnatural, even for someone as dedicated to her work as Miss Granger.”

The headmaster waved him off. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“I  _ do _ worry about it, Albus. You know what the Ministry wants. I need to produce more of the  _ Magicae Remotio _ , but I cannot work with her if I cannot rely on her discretion.”

“Severus, it is perfectly safe to have her help you with the  _ Remotio _ potion. Your apprentice has taken steps to ensure that she  _ cannot _ be compromised. In my meetings with her --”

“ _ Your _ meetings with her?” Severus interrupted.

“Yes. Didn’t she tell you?” Severus shook his head in the negative. “Ah, that explains it then.”

Severus ground his teeth together in frustration. “Explains  _ what _ , exactly?”

“I have been working with Hermione nearly every night for the past three weeks to teach her Occlumency. I’ll say, she’s taken to it rather like the proverbial duck in water. I’ve rarely seen a more disciplined mind. Regardless, I attributed her recent social silence to the fact that I tasked her with maintaining her barriers as much as possible throughout the day.”

“You’re teaching Miss Granger Occlumency?” Severus responded incredulously.

“Yes, of course. She deemed it prudent after her last trip out, and I must say I agree.”

He stared at the Headmaster for a moment before responding. “Albus, due respect...did you not feel it important for me to be aware of this decision? Seeing as she is  _ my  _ apprentice?”

“Well, I rather assumed Hermione would tell you herself, Severus,” Albus responded placidly. “I can hardly help if your treatment of your apprentice has caused her to cut off all non-work communication with you.” He shifted slightly in his chair, tilting his head toward his Potions Professor. “And she  _ has _ stopped speaking to you, has she not?”

Severus ignored the urge to fidget in his chair. Albus Dumbledore had to be the only man on earth capable of making him feel as though he was still a scrawny second-year. “She has been...unusually distant.”

“I assure you, it is quite deliberate.” Albus smiled slightly at the look on Severus’ face. “You forget, my boy, I have been teaching the girl -- woman, really -- Occlumency. I’ve been privy to her thoughts and recollections. You were rather unfair toward the girl, though I can only imagine why.” A silvered eyebrow rose in question.

“I was well within my rights and responsibilities as her Master and supervisor to correct her behavior, Albus.”

“Ah, but note that you did not have to question which incident I referred to. Even if you will not acknowledge it aloud, Severus, I believe you know that you were unnecessarily harsh.”

Severus frowned.

“Might I suggest --”

“You may not. What you  _ may _ do is mind your own business, Albus.”

Albus resumed twinkling. “As you like, Professor Snape. Now as I’ve satisfied your questions, perhaps you will leave me to my evening’s contemplations, hm?”

Severus grabbed some Floo powder and disappeared into the flames once again, tossing a sour look over his shoulder at his employer and friend.

“You’ve your work cut out for you with that one, Albus,” Dilys Derwent stated from her portrait.

“Indeed. Ah, burgeoning attraction. Nothing else has greater potential for folly or misunderstanding, am I right my friend?” Albus said jovially.

A soft snort of amusement was his only answer.

 

✿HG/SS✿

 

Hermione, meanwhile, was in her rooms and practicing her meditations. She’d read extensively about Occlumency, of course, but would never have been to employ it without Headmas -- Albus’ help. Her Gryffindorish nature, that of wearing her heart on her sleeve, had made her initial solo forays into the art somewhat of a failure. 

It occurred to her that Snape would be the person to ask, but she wasn’t trilled with the idea of her direct supervisor mucking about in her head.

Not to mention she didn’t really want to talk to him at the moment. Because...well because he was still being an absolute git.

Albus had been more than willing to put her through her paces and his help had been invaluable. He’d helped her refocus her meditations to shut down her inner dialogue as well as work on schooling her face into neutrality. His suggestion that she occlude whenever in public had been the most difficult; she was used to her mind running on thirty different topics at once, and keeping her shields up and face neutral as she’d contemplated her own thoughts had been incredibly difficult at first.

She found it easier to just avoid other people. There was only Neville here at Hogwarts to notice anyway, and he was so consumed with Ron (which she still thought was the cutest thing  _ ever _ ) that he’d barely noticed her near-silence at meals. Albus had casually mentioned that she should work on adapting her occlumency to appear more natural when in company, so perhaps she’d third-wheel with them for a drink over the weekend and give it a go.

She hadn’t seen Ron in three weeks anyway and missed her best friend. Well, both her best friends, really, but Harry was always busy these days.

With a happy sigh, Hermione snuggled more deeply into the plush cushions of her sofa and levitated her cup of tea (in the cat cups, no less) over to her as she read through the latest issue of the  _ Journal of Alchemical Authority _ . She dogeared a page that she wanted to return to -- the relative merits of dehydrated lacewing fly larvae as opposed to fresh -- just as her fire flared to life. “Granger, answer your floo.”

_ Ah, the great Snape invades.  _

She waved her wand to silence her Discman (shutting off Celtic harp CD her mother had given her the previous Christmas), then took a deep breath to begin reassembling the shields she’d dropped at the end of the work day. It still took longer than she’d like to erect the walls that shielded her thoughts from invasion, but she could at least begin the process before speaking to her mentor.

“I’m here, Severus,” she replied calmly. “Is there something you need?”

“Dammit, girl, I’m coming though. I need to speak to you in person, not through green bloody flames.”

She stepped back from the hearth as his black-clad leg stepped through the grate. “You live down the hall from me, Severus. You could have knocked.”

He looked momentarily nonplussed at her comment. “Right.”

“What did you need, Severus? It’s getting quite late.”

He rounded on her, robes flying. “Why did you not tell me you were studying Occlumency?”   


Now it was Hermione’s turn to be taken aback. “I wasn’t aware that I needed to report on my extracurricular activities to you.”

“You are receiving instruction from the Headmaster, who is head of the institution that employs you. One could argue that this is a part of your apprentice education, Granger. As your master, I should be informed of all aspects of your educational trajectory.”

She blinked at him for a moment. “Bullshite.”

“I  _ beg _ your pardon?” he growled incredulously.

Her half-erected walls came crashing down as she rolled her eyes. “That’s bullshite, Severus. Of, for Merlin’s sake, take a seat and drink some damned tea.”

Too surprised by the sudden shift in her tone to argue, he did as he was told. He grimaced at the tabby cat cup she used to pour the tea into, but Hermione was already sitting from the black cat cup. A quick sip at least confirmed that his one and only lesson on good tea had taken root. She was serving a very nice lapsang souchong.

“Now then, are you actually  _ upset _ that I took it upon myself to learn Occlumency, or are you simply angry that I didn’t inform you of that fact?”

He took a breath and attempted to grab hold of his temper. “Both. Granger, you need to tell me these things, particularly if there is a sudden shift in your behavior -- which there has been. I thought you’d been compromised.”

“ _ Compromised? _ Gods, you speak like a spy even now. I’ve barely left the castle, much less the grounds, for the past three weeks. You spend at least ten hours a day in my presence. At what point would I have been  _ compromised _ ?” She set her cup down with an audible click

“Nevertheless, I need to be informed of these decisions.”

The look she sent him screamed “bollocks” louder than any words could. “I’m  _ so _ sorry, Severus. I was under the impression that, unless it related directly to my work and its efficacy, you were uninterested in my comings, goings, or ‘excuses.’ As I have not failed to fulfill my duties as either your apprentice or your brewer, I didn’t think my dealings with Albus would interest you,” she sniffed.

He sneered at her attempts at haughtiness. “Use your head, Granger. We are already behind in brewing for the company; you’ve seen the tasks. I need to teach you the  _ Magicae Remotio  _ methods and I haven’t been able to because you’ve been behaving strangely!”

She tilted her head to the side in fascination. “Did it occur to you to just  _ ask  _ me what was going on?”

“I --”

“No, of course not. That would be too straightforward. We’re not all spymasters, Severus. Some of us -- the Gryffindor quarter, at least -- will answer a direct question when asked.”

“Granger, I --”

“Stop calling me bloody Granger, you great git!” she huffed. “My name is Hermione. No other professor in this school has an issue using it. I suggest you follow suit!”

He stopped talking and looked at her. Really looked. Her face was flushed and her hair was escaping its pins in the most attractive manner.  _ Not helping, Severus _ . “You have clearly been occluding too long if you are unable to reign your emotions in better than this,” he stated simply.

She sighed tiredly. “Oh, for fuck’s...you know what, just go. You got the answer you came for. Not please leave me to my Friday night. Apparently I have a full weekend of brewing ahead of me and I still need to meditate before bed.”

The mention of  _ bed _ had images of her in her nightgown, lying in those jewel-toned covers popping into his head involuntarily.  _ What the hell, Severus? Get a grip. _

“Very well, Gr --  _ Hermione _ . I will see you in the morning. I will be testing your shields tomorrow; if they are satisfactory, I will begin teaching you  _ Magicae Remotio _ . The Ministry needs a new batch to subdue the prisoners awaiting trial.”

“Fine. Goodnight, Severus.” She looked pointedly at the door.

Perversely, Severus chose to exit the way he had come and roared away in a column of green flame.

“Git.” 

 

✿HG/SS✿

 

Hermione entered Severus’ lab bright and early, mind Occluded and ready to work. “Good morning, Severus. What would you like me to work on today?”

“Prenatal vitamin solution. Several apothecaries have reported a shortage -- due, no doubt, to the baby boom we are anticipating,” he finished dryly.

“Ah. Tonks is probably running low too. I’ll set some aside for her and deliver it next weekend.”

He turned back and began chopping mint leaves. “As you will.”

They worked silently and somewhat companionably for awhile before Hermione felt a feathering touch at the edges of her mind. She smirked behind her shields but maintained a passive expression as she continued her work. The feathering grew stronger for a moment before receding again. 

It continued like this throughout the morning as they worked on their respective projects, Snape reaching out to her mind, finding himself blocked, pushing harder, and retreating again. Hermione was well pleased with her ability to keep him at bay. Albus would be pleased as well.

When the prenatal solution was finished, Hermione removed it from the burner to cool and set herself to creating the labels that would be affixed to the trademark BB Brewing vials that Severus kept in bulk at the back end of his laboratory. Turning to fetch a new box of the glassware, she ran straight into her mentor. “Oh, sorry,” she said, blinking in surprise.

He smirked. “ _ Legilimens _ .”

Caught unaware, Hermione could only stare as Severus slid straight past her shields and into her brain. She gasped as snippets of memory flew past, but was unable to concentrate enough to break the connection. She watched inwardly as he zeroed in on her lessons with Dumbledore, her time dancing with friends three weeks previously, and -- horror or horrors -- her time in bed with Viktor. 

Suddenly enraged, Hermione focused on her lessons with Dumbledore and visualized a force ejecting Snape from her mind. The technique that worked best for her was to imagine a wall of sound buffeting the interloper out of her head, so she did her best to recall the 1812 Overture (the canon bit) to blast him away.

It didn’t work.

Finally, he withdrew.

“A good effort, Hermione, but not successful. Though I’ll admit, the Tchaikovsky was a clever touch.”

“Dammit,” she hissed, plopping down on a stool to apply pressure to the bridge of her nose. The effort behind the sound blast had given her an instant headache.

She raised her head slightly when a hand proffered a vial of headache remedy, still warm from the cauldron. “It will help,” was all Severus said.

She drank it without comment.

“I think, perhaps, we should delay the  _ Remotio _ lesson for a few more weeks. Add Wednesday evening Occlumency lessons to your timetable. You clearly need more variety in your lessons.” With that, Severus Snape swept from the room in a cloud of self-satisfied superiority. 

“Git,” Hermione muttered not for the first time.

“I heard that,” Severus called from the storage room. If Hermione hadn’t been so concerned with her throbbing head, she might have recognized the faint chuckle that colored his voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whee! An update. I've been blocked on this chapter awhile but finally figured out where I wanted it to go...so you gets a chapter!


	18. Happy Birthday, Hermione!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione celebrates her 19th.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, fair warning. I did say that this would be a slow burn. A very, very slow burn. So please don't yell at me when Hermione engages in other relationships.
> 
> I have a plan. There will be SS/HG. Just not yet.

A full weekend of brewing left Hermione too exhausted to practice her meditations properly. Rather, she’d sit down to practice the meditation and find herself sprawled on the couch somewhere in the wee hours of morning. It didn’t help that Severus was regularly poking into her brain during the day as well. She felt him slipping past her defenses while grading papers, while brewing, and while completing her own papers on advanced potion making theory. It seemed that, now that he’d found a way in once, he was having less and less trouble doing so.

It was infuriating.

When Wednesday evening finally rolled around, Hermione was frustrated, tired, and fairly unwilling to attend her lesson. Worse, her mentor knew it.

Severus greeted her at his office door. “Hermione. Good evening. I thought we would be more comfortable in my sitting room for these sessions.” He gestured toward the door to his rooms where, she saw, his functional brown betty was already set out with his monster tea towel beneath the service. 

She smirked a bit at the towel before taking seating herself on the sofa he’d gestured toward, more at ease now that he’d allowed her in again. Despite the mental probing over the past few days, a bit of their former banter had seeped back into their work. The lack of tension was certainly a welcome change from their terse encounters since her weekend off.

Snape sat himself opposite the sofa and poured the tea. “I thought we’d use these lessons as a way of continuing the development of your nose and improving your appreciation of tea while we’re at it.”

She shot him a little grin. “Nothing like multitasking.”

“Precisely. This is one of my personal blends; a black tea mix with raspberry leaf and mixed berries.” 

He nudged a small plate of shortbread toward her. “You want to serve this with a light cookie -- anything too sweet will overpower the fruit.”

“It smells heavenly.”

“Mm, doesn’t it? Can you identify the black tea blend by scent?”

Hermione lifted her cup and first wafted the steam toward her face, then leaned over the cup an inhaled deeply. “I’m having a hard time moving past the berries. There’s definitely Ceylon in there. I recognize it from last time. And something else, too. It smells kind of...fishy?” She looked at him questioningly.

He nodded with approval. “Very good. The fishy tang you’re picking up there is a fine amount of Pu-erh tea mixed with the Ceylon. Pu-erh is a fermented tea, hence the scent.”

She started a bit at that before taking a careful sip. “Hm. It’s...I don’t know how to describe it.”

“Try.”

“Like taking a walk through the Forbidden Forest. It’s like drinking a peat fire and loam and fallen fruits all at once, but oddly comforting.”

Her reaction garnered her a genuine smile. Without a word, Severus strode to the kitchen and quickly returned with a tea tin. He handed it to Hermione who laughed at the label.  _ Forbidden Forest Blend _ .

He sat across from her again and poured his own cup, taking a moment to appreciate the bouquet before sipping. “Now then, let’s review your Occlumency knowledge over our cuppa before we proceed with practical application. What meditations does Dumbledore have you practicing?”

“Um. Visualizations, mostly. We found that my mine is particularly hard to quiet. I guess it likes to chatter as much as I do,” she said with a wry smile. “I’ve tried the body relaxations meditations, but those just put me to sleep. Visualizing a white wall has actually worked a bit better, but I still have a tendency to pass out some of the time. Lately I’ve been trying the Muggle practice of beta thoughts -- I rearrange furniture in my head until the buzzing quiets and I’m standing in a room alone.”

“Very good. I have often used a blank wall or black void as my visualization. When are you practicing your meditations?”

“Before bed.”

He hmmed and sipped his tea again. “That may be why you’re falling asleep. You’re generally working a twelve hour day, then reading into the late hours for your journeyman certification. You may want to add a morning session to your routine and see if that makes a difference.” His eyes narrowed at her muted grumble. “What?”

“Nothing. I’m just not a morning person.”

He shrugged. If anything, he could understand that. “Nevertheless, give it a try.”

She nodded her acquiescence and drained her cup, setting it on the saucer with a little click. 

“If you’re finished with your tea, we can begin with some practical exercises. I assume that your lessons with Dumbledore worked incrementally, with him nudging your mind slightly more with each attempt to break your barriers, correct?”

“Yes.”

“I thought as much. That is how he taught me, as well. It’s an effective technique for learning to test one’s shields against varying strengths of invasion, but not effective against a full-on assault from the get-go. As you experienced last week.” 

She nodded, waiting for him to continue.

“You’ve done well in the last few days to keep me from slipping past your guard, but those have not been brute-force attacks. I’m afraid I was taken by surprise the first time I experienced the full force of an experienced Legilimens; he broke through, just as I was able to with you. Dumbledore’s method is good for learning, but tends to lead to habits of slow shielding. That is what you and I will be working on.”

“So I should expect something similar to your lessons with Harry?”

Severus grimaced a bit at her reference to his disastrous lessons with Potter eighteen months before. “What do you know of my lessons with Potter?”

“Truthfully, not much,” she admitted. “He was pretty close-lipped about your lessons. He basically said you’d tell him to prepare himself, point your wand, then his memories would start to reply. Said he always had a monster headache after, and then that you’d declared him fit to defend his mind and released him from his memories.” She barrelled on at the look on his face. “We didn’t actually believe that last part, Severus. We figured he’d done something to anger you and that you’d dismissed him.”

“Hm. Anger me. Yes, I suppose you could say that finding Potter nose-deep in my pensieve angered me,” he responded dryly.

“Well, shit. He  _ definitely _ didn’t mention that. Harry, you arse.”

“Indeed. Needless to say that if I find you invading my privacy in such a way, I can ensure that you will wake to find live eels in your bed. You’ll receive no warning; you’ll simply wake up. Covered in eels. And possibly a moray.”

Her eyes widened slightly at the very real possibility of a bedfull of anguilliformes. “Noted.”

“Very well. Shall we begin?” At her nod he raised his wand. “Prepare yourself.”

 

✿HG/SS✿

 

With the addition of Occlumency and the accompanying migraines to her already full schedule, Hermione left the castle even more rarely than before. It struck her as surprise, then, when Neville pulled her aside after dinner in the Great Hall two weeks into term and said, “Okay, shut-in. Grab your cloak, Ron and I are taking you out tonight?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Um, Hermione. Hello? It’s the 19th.”

“So?”

“And you’re  _ nineteen _ today. The gang’s all down at the Broomsticks waiting for us!”

“It’s -- huh. Oh no. I have detention to supervise tonight. Timothy Crestwell blew up his cauldron yesterday.”

Neville groaned at this revelation just as a familiar, twinkling voice sounded behind them. “No you don’t, Hermione. Happy birthday, my dear, and take the night off with my compliments. I’m sure Mr. Crestwell’s detention can be reassigned to Argus for the evening, can’t it Severus?” Dumbledore said, glancing at the dark professor beside him.

Severus shrugged somewhat sourly. “Of course, Headmaster.” He nodded to Hermione briefly before sweeping off toward his own chambers.”

“Enjoy your evening, Hermione, and please do check in with me upon your return.” 

Hermione nodded. “Of course, Albus. Thank you.”

Neville grinned his thanks as well before yanking Hermione toward the door. “Come on then, can’t keep them waiting!”

 

✿HG/SS✿

 

Ron had been waiting for them at the Hogwarts gates with a giant grin on his face. Before she could stop him, he’d reached out and placed a small toy tiara on her head that sang “Happy Birthday” every time someone said her name. “New product from the shop. Created this one myself,” Ron grinned.

“Charming,” Hermione responded with a tired smile. “And I’m sure it won’t get the least bit annoying,” she finished.

“Absolutely not! Come on, you two!” He grabbed both Neville and Hermione by the elbow and began frog-marching them toward the pub.

As soon as they stepped through the door, all of her friends stood at once exclaiming “Happy Birthday, Hermione!” As expected, her tiara immediately began to sing. Hermione simply buried her face in her hands and began to giggle hysterically.

“Oh my god I love and hate you guys so much,” she shrieked into her palms.

“Why,  _ Hermione _ ?” Harry asked.

“Yeah,  _ Hermione _ ? Why?” Ginny echoed with a grin.

“ _ Hermione _ , you didn’t answer the question,  _ Hermione _ !” chorused the twins.

Even Draco joined the action. “Take a seat like a proper witch. Here, let me get your seat.  _ Hermione _ .”

Every time someone said her name, the silly song in her tiara started over again. Hermione simply shrieked and batted at the stupid thing on her head. “Why won’t this bloody thing come off?” she cried.

“Specialized sticking charm,  _ Hermione _ . It won’t come off ‘til midnight,” Ron stated.

Hermione tossed her head back and gave a theatrical groan. “Thank you so much Ronald! You’re simply the  _ best _ Ronald!”

“Ah, I see Snape’s sarcasm  _ is _ catching. Good to know. What’re you drinking? I’ve got your first round.”

“What the hell, tomorrow’s Sunday, right? I’ll have a Hogsmeade Bludger.”

“Living dangerously, I see,” Ron chuckled as he traipsed off to the bar to order the cocktail -- one that the twins had created three years previously after a fieldtrip to a Muggle bar. They’d taken one sip of an atrociously-named cocktail called an Irish Carbomb and created a magical equivalent. It consisted of a shot of firewhiskey dropped into a pint of butterbeer and was almost stupidly delicious.

“So, love, how’s your day been?” Harry asked.

“To tell you the truth, I’ve been so busy that I didn’t know what day it was.”

“Seriously?” Draco asked. “What does Uncle Sev have you doing? Other than scrubbing cauldrons and grading papers?”

“There’s a backlog of brewing to catch up on. Apparently there’s been a run on basic potions since the war started and Severus has been struggling to keep the apothecaries supplied. By hiring me on he’s been able to expand his business at the same time...but that means we brew most nights and at least one day each weekend.”  She stretched her fingers, massaging the delicate webbing between her right thumb and forefinger. “I spent part of today brewing cough tinctures for the coming winter, and the other part preparing flobberworms for the firsties’ potions lesson on Monday. I’m bloody exhausted.”

“Sounds like an awful lot of work to me. You sure this is what you want?” Draco asked.

“Right, Malfoy. Like you’d know a hard day’s work if it smacked you upside the head,” Ginny scoffed.

“Shut it Weaslette. Malfoys work, we just don’t do  _ manual _ labor,” the blond sneered.

“Alright you two, shut it already,” Harry said firmly. “Are you happy in the apprenticeship, ‘Mione?”

She breathed a sigh of relief to find that ‘Mione didn’t set off her bloody tiara again. This might be the only night she tolerated such abysmal truncation of her name. 

“Yeah, I do. I mean, it’s a lot of work, but I really enjoy it. If it were just brewing and teaching, it’d be fine. But I do have lessons on top of it. Arithmancy and Charms, teaching lessons with McGonagall, and Occlumency with Snape and Dumbledore.”

“They’re teaching you Occlumency?” Harry was surprised.

She nodded. “A necessity, I’m afraid,” she said, smiling gratefully as Ron returned to the table with drinks for her and Neville. She took the shot and prepared to drop it in her drink.

“Wait!” Ginny cried, stilling her wrist. “We have to toast the birthday girl!”

“Happy Birthday to our favorite girl --” Ron said.

“-- to the most loyal friend --” Harry chimed in. 

“-- to my favorite shopping partner --” Ginny stated. They’d clearly rehearsed this.

“-- to the brainiest of brains --” Draco smirked.

“-- and best of wumfazzler repellents --” Luna stated dreamily.

“-- to the prettiest buzzkill we’ve ever met --” said the twins in unison.

“-- and my favorite coworker!” Neville finished.

“To --” the crowd stated.

“Oh, don’t say it, please,” Hermione whinged.

“Our Hermione!” they cried together.

Hermione laughed as the glasses around the table raised high and her tiara burst into song once again. Without further ado, she dropped the shot into her glass and drank it down in one.

“You are the best and worst of friends and I love every single one of you to pieces,” she said with a grin.

 

✿HG/SS✿

 

More drinks had followed, though Hermione had wisely switched to cider, then gillywater after the initial buzz from the Hogsmeade Bludger kicked in. She’d received some truly lovely gifts from her friends -- not all books for once -- and was playing with the charm on her new necklace (a gift from Harry and Ginny) as she nibbled on fried cheese bits and listened to her friends catch her up on their lives. 

She was so caught up in Draco’s story of bringing Luna home for dinner with his parents the previous weekend (there had apparently been a Nifflebocker hunt in his mother’s treasured rose garden) that it took nearly a half hour for her to notice Ron and Neville weren’t at the table.

“Where’d Ron go?”

The twins shot each other a quick look. “Look out the window, love.” The group had finally grown tired of shouting her name every two minutes.

Sure enough, outside the pub Neville and Ron seemed to be engaged in a rather steamy (and surprisingly public) snogging session.

“Goodness, they’ve heated up fast.”

“Not everyone is trapped in the castle brewing, ‘Mione,” Ginny said with a shrug. “I know for a fact that Neville sleeps at Ron’s at least one night a week and that they meet up at least a couple nights outside that.”

Luna sighed and rested her head on her hand. “They seem very happy together. I’m glad Ron found the right path. I mean, you’re lovely Hermione -- oh, sorry,” she broke off as the tiara burst into song, “but anyone with eyes could see that Ron didn’t belong with you. He needed someone a bit less--”

“-- Bossy?” Draco slid in.

“I was going to say commanding,” Luna said with a little frown. “I don’t think Ron would ever have felt your equal, really.”

Hermione scrunched her brows together. “I never wanted to make Ron feel inferior, Luna. I’ve never wanted to make anyone feel that way. Except Draco, maybe,” she said with a little smile. “I just want Ron happy and Neville does that for him. I hope I find someone like that, someday.”

“What about Krum?” asked Harry.

“Viktor is lovely and smarter than you’d think, but we both know that we’re just in it for fun. Speaking of, where is he tonight?”

“Dunno. We haven’t heard from him in weeks,” Harry responded, seeming puzzled. He and Viktor had developed a tenuous friendship in the past few years, and he was perplexed by the man’s tendency to drop off the face of the earth for long periods. “Haven’t you heard anything?”

Hermione merely waved the question away. “It’s not like that, Harry. Like I said, he’s fun...but not relationship material. He’s probably found some Quidditch groupie and has been shacking up with her for a few weeks. That’s usually what a long silence means.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Ginny asked.

“I -- no. Not really. I’m probably going to end that part of our friendship the next time I see him anyway. It’s just not for me anymore, you know?”

The rest of the group nodded. “We were all kind of surprised it was for you at all, you know?” Fred said seriously.

“It’s not like they’re beating down the door to date the bossy, insufferable know-it-all,” she said, shifting in her seat. “Anyway, how’re your love lives going?” Hermione asked cheerily. Her birthday was no time for a pity party.

“Did we tell you that Angie and I are finally a couple?” George asked.

“You did not. I always assumed she had a thing for Fred,” Hermione said with a little smirk. “After all, he is the better looking brother.”

“Oi!” George shouted over his brother’s guffaws. “That’s unfair that is!”

 

✿HG/SS✿

 

Hermione’s escorts were nowhere to be found when Rosmerta signalled that it was closing time. She turned back toward the somewhat inebriated members of her circle of friends. “Um, I hate to ask, but can someone walk me back to the gates? After that weird thing with the hair a few weeks back, I’ve been asked not to go it alone.”

“I’ve got you covered, love,” Fred said, waving off the rest of the group. Hermione murmured her thanks as she gathered her bag and didn’t notice the raised eyebrows between Fred and George.

The night had cooled considerably as they slid into fall, and Hermione shivered a bit before casting a warming charm. She was surprised when Fred slipped out of his dragonskin jacket and placed it over her shoulders. “Thanks,” she said, glancing up at him.

“No problem.” He paused as they walked a little further, then seemed to draw an exceptionally large breath. “Say Hermione?” he said.

She glanced up and realized it was later than she thought. The tiara wasn’t singing. She quickly reached a hand up to snatch it off her head. “Yeah?” she asked as she studied sparkly piece of metal curiously. It really was an ingenious piece of charmwork.

“I didn’t say anything before because of Krum, but I was wondering…”

Her eyes snapped up to his, attention diverted from the singing tiara. 

“...maybe you and I could have dinner sometime? Just, you know. The two of us.” He stopped talking as they reached the Hogwarts gates.

Hermione simply looked at him, mouth agape. 

“Or, you know, not. I mean, you don’t have to.” He scratched nervously at the back of his head, clearly as clueless about asking a girl out as his younger brother had been. He flushed red to the roots of his hair and turned to walk away. “Um, g’night.” 

“No!” Hermione cried before he could apparate. “I mean, yes! I’d like that. Dinner with you, I mean.”

“Oh?” His frown quickly tilted upward into a jaunty grin. “Oh! Well, good then. That’d be...good. Next weekend?”

“Saturday night would be perfect. Meet me here ‘round seven?”

“Yeah.” He exhaled shakily. “Yeah, that works.” He smiled and leaned in, placing a little kiss on her cheek. “I’ll see you then.”

“Good night, Fred,” she said with a little smile of her own.

“Oh, Hermione?” he called as she turned toward the gates. “Wear something pretty. I’ve decided to impress you with my savoir faire. After all, I am the better looking brother.” He waggled his eyebrows before turning toward the apparation point.  


Her laughs carried her all the way back to the castle. Maybe some boys  _ did _ like a bossy know-it-all after all.

Nineteen was off to a very good start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tea I describe in the first scene is actually the My Neighbor Totoro Tea from Adagio. If you are a tea fan, I highly recommend this one!
> 
> Also, thanks to B. for the Hogsmeade Bludger name!


	19. Tilt-a-Whirl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione's birthday concludes and she has her first date with Fred.

The blush was still bright on Hermione’s face as she began the long walk from the castle gates and toward the towering stone edifice in front of her. As she meandered up the path toward the  the side door that provided more direct access to the Headmaster’s stairs, Hermione contemplated the evening and her life in general. It was strange, she thought, that so much had changed in so little time. With Voldemort dead, she and her friends were finally free to make lives for themselves rather than focusing on the inevitable conflict with a genocidal maniac and his fascist followers. Her friends were happy. She had a job that she (mostly) loved and that provided her with the ability to continue her education. Her parents would return from the continent in a few weeks time and were, by last report, tanned and content with their time abroad. And she had a date with a lovely man with whom she had an established history of friendship and frivolity. If it weren’t for a weird secret admirer and his -- assuming it was a man -- stead stream of creepy rare flowers, she’d be perfectly content. Well, that and the hair snatching weirdo.

Come to think of it, she was glad that Fred recognized her need for bit of frivolity.   

She gave a happy sigh and began to hum along to the earworm that had been running in her head all day -- ABBA’s “Waterloo” -- then started as a tall, dark figure emerged from the shadows of the cloister colonnade. 

Hermione gave a little shriek and drew her wand before recognizing her mentor’s lean figure. “Oh, Severus. You scared the dickens out of me!”

“Hermione,” he replied with a little bow, which was quickly followed by a strange look as the tiara in her hand burst into song once again. “It’s good to see that you can still find your wand in such an inebriated -- and may I say, tuneful state.” 

She rolled her eyes and pressed the tiara against her robes in an attempt to muffle its song. “I’m not drunk, Severus. I’ve spent the last two hours drinking Gillywater, truth be told. My ebullience is merely a byproduct of time spent with some of my favorite people.”

“Hn. Well I am glad that you have arrived back in one piece. More or less. Were you escorted?”

“Yes,” she replied a bit testily. “Fred saw me back to the gates.”

“Good. Then you can tell me how the oak-matured mead was tonight.”

“I already told you, I mostly drank Gillywater.” Her eyes widened as she watched the potions master draw his wand. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Um…” she rolled her eyes upward in an attempt to focus. “The mead was lovely but the service was somewhat lacking. Better?”

He sheathed his wand again. “Much. I’ve been asked to remind you that the Headmaster expressed a wish to see you. I would also like to speak to you when you have finished, so please stop by my lab when your conversation with the Headmaster is complete.”

She glanced at the man as they moved toward the door. “Severus, it’s nearly midnight. Don’t you ever sleep?”

“I do, and I am aware of the time. Which is why I would ask that you not keep me waiting long.” With a brisk nod, he left her at the base of the spiral staircase. 

Hermione shook her head in utter confusion as she stepped forward and allowed the stairs to carry her upward, toward the Headmaster.

 

✿HG/SS✿

 

“Come in dear girl.” Dumbledore rose from the armchair near his fire as Hermione moved into the room. She couldn’t remember the last time she hadn’t seen him ensconced behind his desk. Even her occlumency lessons were conducted with him behind the massive work of art that was his workspace. 

“Before we begin, I should ask you how you found the evening air tonight.”

“Balmy, but it feels like it might snow,” she said dutifully. 

“Excellent. I really wanted to ask how your evening has been, but I can see that it was clearly very delightful,” he said, nodding toward the tiara still in her hand. “You’ve pink in your cheeks my dear.”

Hermione gave a soft laugh and sat in the chair he gestured toward, taking a moment to examine the tiara again. “Ron gave this to me. It was annoying, but it’s really ingenious spellwork. It sings every time someone says my name. There’s no way to turn the charm off without destroying the tiara, though. I’ll have to find a soundproof box to keep it in to stop it from driving me batty.”

Dumbledore gave a little chuckle. “Your Ronald is quite good with Charm work, I believe.”

“Not  _ my _ Ronald, but yes. When he applies himself. You’ll remember, he’s Neville’s Ronald these days,” she said with a little smirk.

“Of course, of course. I meant no offense.”

“None taken. He’s still my best friend. Well, he and Harry. You know how it is.” She gave a little shrug.

He nodded with a benign smile, then picked up his wand to flourish it over the empty coffee table between their two chairs, where a disillusioned, wrapped package suddenly appeared. “I wanted to wish you a happy birthday myself, Hermione.” He grinned in delight as her tiara burst into song.

“Told you,” she muttered.

“How wonderful.” He nodded his head in time to the song as he waited for it to finish. “Might I?” he asked with outstretched hand. 

“Of course,” she said, hand it across the table. 

The Headmaster studied the tiara for a moment before passing his wand over it a few times in concentration. A mumbled  _ ah ha _ led to a quick flick and jab of his wand before he handed the tiara back. “I have made a slight adjustment to the tiara so that it responds to a less common phrase than your name.” He paused and glanced at her. “I can, of course, reverse the change if you wish.”

“Oh! No. It’s...what’s the phrase?”

“Tiara: Sing.”

“Well, that’s direct enough,” she said with a little laugh. “Thank you.”

“Not at all, Hermione, not at all. Now then, I believe I was about to give you this.” He reached down and handed the small package to her with a twinkling smile. “I also wanted to tell you how pleased I’ve been with your work thus far. You’ve been doing a wonderful job both with your teaching and your individual studies. Everyone has glowing reports -- though of course I expected nothing less.”

Hermione looked at the package in her hand a bit teary eyed. She’d never had a particularly close relationship with Albus Dumbledore -- that had always been for Harry -- but his attention now felt both flattering and timely. “Thank you, Albus. That’s good to hear. I was just thinking about how much I love the life that I’m leading here. How fulfilling I have found both work and study. I’m so glad you gave me this opportunity.”

“And we’re glad to have you, dear girl. Now it’s late. Be off with you.”

 

✿HG/SS✿

 

Hermione was unsurprised to find Severus not only in his laboratory, but part way through the process of brewing when she returned from her visit with the headmaster. She cleared her throat from the doorway to alert him to her presence before entering the room and waiting for him to pause in his work.

Severus gestured toward a stool with his left hand and kept stirring briskly with the right, his eyes following the path of the stirring rod as it moved through the potion. The liquid in the cauldron was a brilliant cerulean and smelled of sulfur and poppies.

After a few moments, Severus removed the stirring rod and wiped it on a soft cloth, glancing up at his apprentice. “I don’t recognize that one,” she said, nodding toward the potion in the cauldron.

“It’s a commission for St. Mungo’s,” he replied before moving to place the rod in the wash basin and lowering the heat on his cauldron. “In this form, it’s useless. It needs to reduce for twelve hours, at which point it is an effective treatment for a number of eye ailments -- primarily chronic styes and conjunctivitis.”

Hermione grimaced. “Lovely.”

“Yes, well. There appears to be a pinkeye epidemic in the Hogsmeade and Ottery St. Catchpole primary schools. This should help clear it up.”

She nodded, then tilted her head in inquiry. “You asked to see me?”

“I did. I was not aware that it was your birthday today. Why did you not tell me?” he asked tonelessly. A glance at his face showed that he was Occluding, which itself gave Hermione pause. Was Severus...upset with her?

“Honestly, because I didn’t realize the day. We’ve been so busy brewing or teaching or grading or studying that I’d completely lost track of the date,” she said with a sheepish shrug. She watched as his shoulders lowered and his posture relaxed.  _ He  _ was  _ upset I hadn’t told him. _

“I see. Had I known I would perhaps have asked you to not work quite so late,” he said with some asperity. He cleared his throat. “Regardless, you are my apprentice and a friend, of sorts, and I wanted to mark the occasion. I hope you will find this of some use.” He handed her a small, leather box with weathered corners. 

“Thank you, Severus,” Hermione replied seriously, ignoring the  _ of sorts _ part of his statement. “I hope you know that my only expectation of my friends is their continued company. Gifts aren’t necessary.”

“Nevertheless,” he said, but proceeded no further. Hermione smiled a little and opened the box he’d handed her. Inside were two very simple but clearly hand-carved wooden combs. She traced a finger over the delicate tines. “They’re lovely. I’ve never tried using hair combs before -- Muggles rely more on elastics these days.”

“I am aware. These were my mother’s, and they have been charmed to hold the hair securely without a allowing stray hairs to fall from the scalp until the combs are removed. She wore them always whilst cooking or brewing.”

Hermione glanced up in surprise at the mention of his mother. “Severus, these are a family heirloom. I can’t accept these.”

“You can. My mother is deceased and there is no other family to lay claim to her belongings. They are of no use sitting in a trunk, and the combs will look well with your coloring. They’re yours, if you like them.” He shifted uncomfortably during this short speech, looking wildly out of his element.

“I love them, and I couldn’t think of a more useful gift for an apprentice brewer. Thank you, Severus.” She set the box down carefully and gave the taciturn man a brief hug. “It was kind of you to think of me, especially on such short notice.”

Severus stood stiffly in her embrace and huffed out a breath. “You’re very welcome. Now as you indicated, it is quite late.”

Hermione drew back and reclaimed her gift. “Of course. Thank you again, Severus. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Good night. Hermione.”

 

✿HG/SS✿

 

Severus lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling as he had for the past three hours. He’d had sleepless nights before -- usually thanks to a round or two of cruciatus or because there simply weren’t enough hours in the day to teach, brew, research, and spy -- but he’d not been kept awake by thoughts of a girl, or woman, in some time.

He didn’t know what on earth had possessed him to give her his mother’s combs. It was far too personal a gift from mentor to apprentice. It was far too personal a gift from him to...anyone. 

_ Of course you could always just admit you’re attracted to her _ , chirped the little voice in his head. He groaned, rolling over in bed in an attempt to find a cooler section of sheet and heaving a frustrated sigh.

He didn’t understand himself these past few weeks. First there had been the accidental blurting of “Hermione” whilst balls deep in another woman. As if that wasn’t bad enough. And then the irrational behavior -- and he knew it was irrational. He’d been angry to see her with Krum. Jealous, even, when she’d arrived back at the castle looking hungover and thoroughly well shagged. It made no sense. The chit was nineteen. Barely. What on earth were his hormones doing, sending his thoughts chasing after a woman in his employ, over whom he had supervisory power, over whom he’d had parental powers until just a few months prior.

He groaned aloud and pounded his clenched fist into his pillow in an angry attempt to smooth the lumps and allow his body to rest. 

Okay, so the erection probably wasn’t helping there. Nor was the knowledge that she was sleeping in that too-short nightdress just a hop, skip, and thrust down the hall.

_ Calm down, Snape. She’s not for you and you are most certainly not for her. Where is your lauded professional detachment now, you great pillock?  _

Severus closed his eyes, but he did not sleep.

 

✿HG/SS✿

 

With a little smile, Hermione smoothed her hair one last time and grabbed her jacket. She’d twisted her curls back into a loose braid with a few tendrils framing her face and applied a coppery brown eyeliner to her lids. She liked what it did for her eyes.

Fred had asked her to wear something pretty and, as much as she might resist the playful  _ command  _ to appear as arm candy, she did want to look nice for their first date. She’d opted for a long-sleeved teal dress with a floaty A-line skirt and coppery court shoes. She’d transfigured her fall-weight cloak into a plain black blazer jacket with subtle coppery threads running through it and thought that it brought the outfit together nicely. Fred had failed to state whether they were dining Magical or Muggle that evening, so she prepared for the latter. She could always drop the spell on her cloak if they were dining in a Magical establishment.

She hummed to herself -- Fleetwood Mac today -- as she moved down the steps and into the castle foyer and toward the great door leading to the grounds. 

“Out again this evening, Hermione?” Severus asked with a raised brow as he emerged from the staff room.

“Yes,” she said with a little smile. “I’ve a date tonight, but I’ll be sure to check in when I return. I shouldn’t be late.”

She watched as Severus’ eyes narrowed. “I assume we will all be treated to more dreadful reports on your evening with Mr. Krum, then,” he said with a sneer.

“Oh, um. Actually, no. Viktor and I aren’t together. We just see each other sometimes. Saw. I mean, we'll still see each other in the future, but as friends. I’m seeing Fred this evening, actually. You know, Fred Weasley.”

“I am aware of the Fred to which you refer, Granger. Go on with you, then.” He waved her toward the door with a lazy hand. “And why your busy social schedule allows, kindly remove the multiple bouquets that have arrived for you from the staff room. The pollen is giving Sybill fits.”

“I hadn’t realized that more had arrived. I thought you and Pomona were splitting the flowers between you.”

“It might be wise for you to check these bouquets yourself, apprentice.” He gave her a mocking bow. “Enjoy your evening.” With a sweep of his robes he rounded the corner and was out of her sight.

Hermione shook her head at Severus’ strange behavior and turned toward the doors. 

At seven on the dot, a crack of apparition heralded the arrival of her escort for the evening. Hermione breathed in silent relief that she’d opted for Muggle clothing that evening; Fred was dressed in a smart suit in dark grey with a crisp burgundy shirt and grey striped tie. His hair had been brushed back from his face and was held in place by, she assumed, one of the Sleakeazy line of hair products. He looked rather dashing, really.

“Hermione,” he said with a slightly tilted grin. “You look...wonderful.”

She smiled in return. “Thanks. I erred on the side of Muggle since you didn’t mention where we were going.” Hermione gave a little shrug. 

“Ah, that’s because it’s a surprise,” he said, stepping forward to take her arm. Then he leaned toward her and whispered in her ear, “and because I hadn’t figured out where we were going until earlier today.”

She chuckled. “We’ll go with surprise, then. Well,come on then. Whisk me away, oh galant companion of my evening,” she said dramatically.

Fred snorted. “ _ Companion of your evening? _ Makes me sound like a lady of the night.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” she said, still laughing. “So where are we off to, then?”

He broadened his smile and held out an arm. “Why don’t we find out?”

 

✿HG/SS✿

 

Hermione grinned, her eyes shining in the multi-colored lights of the Muggle carnival. 

“Fred Weasley! You had me wear a dress and heels to a funfair?”

He laughed. “Honestly, by the time I’d figured out where we were going to go, it was a bit late to floo you and tell you not to dress up. I dressed up so you wouldn’t feel alone in your finery. Have you got cushioning charms on those?” he asked, nodding toward her feet.

“Of course,” she scoffed. “But I’m half afraid my dress will fly up the first time we go down the Helter Skelter.”

The redhead waggled his eyebrows at her. “That, my dear, is half the point. Come on, I’ll buy you some candy floss.” Without further ado, he grabbed her hand and dragged her toward the ticket booth, exchanging an obscene amount of Muggle money for more tickets than was wise. “We’re not leaving until we’ve tried every ride at least once,” he stated firmly.

“Not everything. I’m not doing that one,” she said firmly, pointing to what appeared to be a pod strung on two bungee cords. As they watched, a catch released and the pod was flung storeys into the air. The tension went out of the cables and the pod free-fell back toward the earth before catching and bouncing up again. “Yeah. Nothing short of an LSD-tripping Bellatrix Lestrange with her wand and a grenade launcher could get me on that one. And even that might be a toss-up.”

“Fiiiine,” Fred whinged jokingly. “Most of the rides then. Candy floss first, then swings,” he said firmly. 

Fred was true to his word and, after sharing a cone of fluffy spun sugar, they’d ridden the swings (though Hermione had closed her eyes through much of the experience), driven the bumper cars (she’d slaughtered Fred there), and thrown darts and balloons tacked on a cork board (where Fred won her a shockingly pink stuffed bear). Fred had forced them to ride the teacups three times, claiming that he enjoyed the experience of whirling in circles...though Hermione suspected that this was a flimsy excuse and that what he’d  _ really  _ enjoyed was the fact that the centrifugal force generated by the ride caused her body to press into his for long minutes on end. 

She decided she rather liked it as well.

They’d laughingly eaten a messy dinner of chips and curry, popcorn, and caramel apples. Hermione had steadfastly refused to ride anything fast or swirly after that, which is how she found herself staring at the stars with Fred’s arm draped over her shoulder as they idled a quarter way up the ferris wheel while it loaded more passengers. 

“What’re you thinking?” he asked softly.

“Just that it’s been a really lovely night,” she replied, clutching her stuffed bear closer. “This place...it’s very you,” she said with a little smile.

He shrugged. “I suppose. I was thinking of you when I came on the idea, though,” he said as the ride moved forward three more seats. “You work too hard. I wanted to take you someplace where you wouldn’t be wracking that massive brain for conversation and could just have some fun, you know?”

She colored a bit at that. “Thank you,” she replied softly, cuddling closer into his side. The breeze was picking up the higher they went, ruffling her skirt and teasing hair out of her braid. She sighed in contentment as she rested her head on his shoulder, thoroughly enjoying just  _ being _ . The heights didn’t seem quite so frightening with Fred’s warm arm around her.

“Would you want to do this again sometime?” he asked. Hermione was surprised to hear a faint thread of insecurity in his voice and looked up at him.

She leaned in to kiss him softly on the lips as their cart stopped at the top of the wheel. “I would,” she said, drawing back.

She caught an impression of white teeth as they flashed into a smile, then closed her eyes as he leaned in. Hermione sighed into the kiss as their lips met and the wheel began to turn in earnest, giving up the view of the stars for the heady feeling of innocent arousal and the giddy possibility of a new relationship.

 


	20. Two Bouquets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione gets home from her date only to find her secret admirer has left her a present.

Rather than remain in his rooms and correct abysmal third year homework parchments, Severus chose to use his evening to gather some of the more common potions ingredients on the border of the Forbidden Forest. Yes, the simple ferns and lichens could have been gathered more efficiently by daylight. And no, the potions stores weren’t particularly low on either ingredient, but it never helped to have more on hand. He needed to supervise several detentions, after all. The students could practice their preservation techniques. Pickled lichen was particularly difficult for the younger students to preserve in large enough pieces to be usable. A suitable assignment for misbehavior.

The fact that this particular section of the Forbidden Forest gave him a direct view of the front gate was neither here nor there

His pail was nearly full when he heard the telltale pop of apparation near the gates. A quick glance around a conveniently placed copse of trees gave him a good view of Hermione and Fred Weasley sharing a hug and quick kiss (Quite chaste, really. He would have thought the twin had more in him than  _ that _ …) before parting ways. Weasley back-tracked toward Hogsmeade after seeing Hermione safely inside the gates. 

With a silent nod to himself, Severus began to make his own way back to his quarters, taking care to walk the long way round to the side door.

 

✿HG/SS✿

 

He found Hermione in the staffroom, staring at the two most recent offerings from her secret admirer. If you could call someone who anonymous gifts of strange flowers an admirer. 

Oh course, these latest bouquets sent rather a different message than the rest. The smaller of the two contained a clutch of calla lilies. At its center was a wilted lily with red veins, as though the plant had been soaking in a vase of red dye. The effect was more than mildly disturbing. The other “bouquet” however, was quite obviously more sinister. Hermione stared at the offerings, both of which were encased within airtight charms.

“I wouldn’t touch them, if I were you,” Severus said, leaning against the open door. 

She turned toward him, eyes wide. “No. I assumed not. Who cast the bubble charm around it?”

“I did.”

“Thank you. These I know,” she said gesturing toward the lilies. “Innocuous enough, but for the skin irritation they cause when touched. But when combined with this --” she gestured toward the ten-foot tall flowering...thing propped in the corner of the staff room. “Is that what I think it is?” 

“That rather depends on what you think it is,” Severus said with a deceptively dismissive shrug.

“ _ Heracleum mantegazzianum _ ,” she replied with a whisper. “Mum warned me about it years ago, told me to stay away from the river near our house because she’d seen some growing there and needed to call the local authorities to have it removed.” 

Severus snorted. Of course she knew what it was, and in Latin, no less. “Yes. well. It would seem your admirer has chosen to move in a new direction. Still a white plant, though one could hardly call this a bouquet of flowers. Tell me, have you angered anyone enough to have them attempt to disfigure you recently?”

Hermione continued to stare at the towering herbaceous offense. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?” she asked softly.

“The Headmaster thought it best you see if for yourself. Obviously we cannot keep it in the school as it is.”

“Obviously,” she agreed breathlessly. “What the hell, Severus?” she whispered. “Who would send this to me? How did it even get into the school?”

Severus sighed and moved toward the plant to ensure that his bubble charm had no weakened walls.  Giant Hogweed, while not a magical plant and fairly useless in any magical application, had the uncanny ability to burst a bubble charm if left attended over time

“Hagrid delivered your ‘gift’. Luckily his mixed heritage allowed him to handle it without ill effect. Pomona and I both recognized it for what it was and immediately cleared the room while I cast the bubble charm.”

“And the students? Did Hagrid encounter anyone in the hall?” She wrung her hands as she finally turned to look at her mentor.

“He did not. He used the side door due to its size.” He dropped his wand, satisfied that his charm held. “We were lucky in that.”

“Thank Merlin.” She paused, glancing at the beautiful menace once again. “I don’t need a book on the Victorian language of flowers to decipher this message. These,” she gestured toward both bouquets, “are a threat.”

He nodded, eyes serious.  “Yes.”

“Was there a note?”

“There was,” he affirmed.

She turned to face him fully now and he watched in fascination as her face transformed from that of studious apprentice to the determined warrior who had fought in the Final Battle. “I think I’d better speak to Albus.”

“He awaits you in his office.”

 

✿HG/SS✿

 

“Ah, Hermione. Welcome back. Did you enjoy your evening?”

“I did, thank you Albus. Fred sends his greetings.”

Albus nodded pleasantly and rested his chin on his steepled fingers. “Lovely. I assume you’ve been to the staffroom?”

“I have,” she said, sinking into the chair across from the Headmaster’s desk. “Who the hell would send me a Giant Hogweed?”

The headmaster ignored the inelegant snort that sounded near the door. “That is rather the question of the hour, Hermione. I don’t suppose you happen to keep a running list of those who might wish you harm, hm?”

“Other than my darling mentor over there?” Hermione asked with an ill-mannered shrug as Severus failed to swallow another snort. “Just the usual group, I suppose. Some former Death Eaters -- present company excluded, of course. That’s it.”

“No -- forgive my phrasing -- former lovers who might be displeased with their status?”

“No.” Hermione jolted at the sound of Severus clearing his throat. Loudly. “What?” she said, barely restraining herself from rolling her eyes at his tactics.

“I believe you might be neglecting to mention Mr. Krum.”

Hermione’s brows furrowed as she looked at the wizard over her shoulder. “How do you -- ? Nevermind. No, Viktor and I are friends still. He’s dating some Quidditch groupie named Martie. Or Marta. Marina? Something like that.” She waved her hand as if to brush the entire idea away. “Viktor doesn’t have that kind of behavior in in him. He’s more the yell-until-the-problem-is-resolved sort anyway.”

“Nevertheless, jealousy can make for some strange behaviors, even in the ones we think we know well. It might be best for us to check into Mr. Krum. Severus?”

The younger wizard gave a short nod.

Albus looked back toward Hermione. “And you have yet to be approached about the  _ Magicae Remotio _ , correct?”

“No. I mean, yes, no one has approached me.” She watched as Albus and Severus exchanged a look.

“It is only a matter of time, Severus,” Albus said to the younger man’s curt nod.

“We’re already taking precautions; her Occlumency is strong enough for a cursory examination, but not for interrogation under Veritaserum.”

“Keep at it, then,” Albus said, looking tired. “I’m sorry, Hermione, that this has rather ruined your evening.” He ignored the Potion Master’s snort. “If you could, please make a list of those whom you believe might hold a grudge against you. We will examine it at the end of the week and see if we make any progress. Other than that, I ask that you continue to work on your Occlumency with both your Master and with me -- the Ministry may not have thought to approach you yet, but they will. Sooner rather than later, I fear.”

“Of course, Albus. I’ll continue to leave the castle with an escort when possible and check in upon my return.”

“Thank you, my dear. Now I’m sure you’ve had a rather long evening,” the wizened man stated, waggling his eyebrows, “so I’ll bid you a good night. Occlumency next Tuesday, yes?”

“Yes. Goodnight, Albus.” Hermione rose and made her way to the door, grateful that the matter was being put to rest. She turned back before she crossed the threshold. “Severus said there was a note?”

“Ah, yes.” The headmaster picked up the scrap of parchment and handed it to Hermione. “I’m afraid I’m at a loss as to its meaning. Perhaps you can shed some light on the subject?”

Hermione glanced at the paper in her hand.  **_I am the sun to your blossom, the water to your stem. Every substitute will leave you wilted and wanting._ **

She glanced up at Severus, who had followed her to the door. “Did you read this?”

“I did.”

“And?"

“And I think I have better things to do that chasing down misinformed and overly-ardent admirers, Granger. Now if you’ll excuse me,” he bit off, brushing past her, “some of us have been wanting to retire rather than waiting for you to return from your  _ date _ .” He bit off his sentence with just enough malice to cause Hermione to flash back to her first potions class. She watched as he stalked down the steps leading away from the Headmaster’s suite.

Hermione sighed and pulled at a curl, a nervous habit from childhood that returned in times of high stress. 

“Don’t worry overmuch about Severus, my dear,” Albus intoned from behind his desk. “His bluster has fewer targets now that the war is done. He’ll come ‘round soon enough.”

The witch barked a humorless laugh as she turned to leave once again. “The man is a grump. I’ve always wondered how you could tell the difference between bluster and his true personality.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes as she bade the headmaster good night before he could formulate a reply.

Albus merely watched with a knowing gaze as the door shut softly behind the young woman. He glanced at the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black with a wry smile. “I give them six months before someone snaps.” 

Phineas snorted in reply. “Ever the optimist, Dumbledore. It will be at least two years, in my estimation.”

“Terms?”

“If I am correct, you will commission a painting of the wizarding library at Alexandria. We’ve all read through what’s available in the other castle paintings four times over,” the former headmaster stated.

Dumbledore goggled. “Merlin’s ankles, Phin. Do you know how much enchanted portraits cost?”

“I do.”

“And if I win?”

“My great granddaughter’s stickpin,” he wagered, referring to Walpurga Black’s favorite brooch.

“The opal and star sapphire sceptre?”

“That’s the one. I’m sure my great great grandmenace’s heir will be willing to part with it in exchange for the secret for unsticking Wally’s portrait from the wall.”

Albus nodded, greedily anticipating the day when he could affix the stickpin to his best hat. Perhaps for the next leaving feast. “You have a deal, old friend.”

 

✿HG/SS✿

 

Hermione returned to her quarters and quickly changed into yoga pants and a t-shirt before moving to a rug that she’d bought specifically to practice her meditations upon. She’d found that sitting on her bed or the couch during her attempts to clear her mind would quickly put her to sleep. Sitting in half lotus on the floor seemed to work. She wondered idly if her Muggle upbringing had fixed an idea of what it meant to meditate in her subconscious and if she was simply too closed minded to deviate from that expectation.

Or it could be that she wasn’t sleeping enough.

With a mental sigh, Hermione sat down and closed her eyes, focusing her breath inward and blocking out environmental distractions. Moments later, a knock sounded at her door.

“Bugger.” With a little grumble, she unfolded herself and opened the door. Neville, Ron, and Ginny stood at her threshold, each sporting Cheshire cat grins. 

“Can we come in?” Neville asked quietly.

“Of course. Ginny, you shouldn’t be out of bed this late. You know if Snape catches you he’ll find reason to deduct points.” 

Ginny snorted as she shut the door behind her. “I’m visiting a mentor for tutelage,” she said with a wry smile. 

“Gin, you’re not even  _ in _ potions this year!”   


“Who said anything about you?” the younger girl said with a smile. “I’m talking to Neville about my Herbology NEWT! And anyway,  McGonagall has given me all kinds of special permissions as a reward for my war service -- including rescinding my curfew and allowing me into Hogsmeade for your birthday. So stop fussing and spill the beans. How was your date with my brother? And not the daft one, because he’s taken.”

“Oi!” Ron and Neville chorused together.

Hermione laughed. “It was great, actually. He took me to a Muggle fun fair.”

“Aw!” Ginny said in a saccharine sweet tone. “That’s totally him!

“Right? That’s what I said! But he said he was thinking of me -- wanted me to take load off from stress and work and just have fun for the night. And I did.” She rose and walked toward her kitchenette to grab the tea service and some biscuits. “He filled me with every kind of junk food imaginable, took me on all the rides except one that went way too high and fiddled with gravity in ways I’m not comfortable.” She tapped the teapot with her wand to fill it with boiling water, then spooned a blend of her own creation into the pot. Her tea lessons with Snape had rapidly developed into an obsession. This one was a smoky chai tea with cardamom and tellicherry pepper notes. 

“Did you kiss?” Ginny asked, leaning in to snatch a biccie. 

“Dammit, Gin, that’s our brother you’re talking about,” Ron groaned. “I don’t want to think about him kissing someone I think of as a sister!”

Neville shifted uncomfortably. “Uh, Ron, you’ve kissed Hermione.” 

“Yeah, which is how I figured that I love her like a sister,” the red-head said with a cheeky smile before pressing a smacking kiss to Neville’s lips. “You, on the other hand, don’t feel at all like a brother to me.”

Hermione smiled as Neville’s cheeks heated.  “Yes, Gin. We kissed. At the top of the Ferris wheel. It was really sweet, actually.”

Ginny’s eyes widened comically. “It is. I wonder if someone Imperiused him!”

Hermione laughed outright and slapped her friend on the arm. “Shut up! We’re going out again next weekend -- the whole day, actually. Maybe we could all meet up for dinner or something after? It’s a Hogsmeade weekend.”

Neville smiled. “We have a date too, but dinner with the gang might be nice. Ron?”

Ron nodded his approval, his mouth too full of biscuit to formulate a proper answer.  _ Funny _ , Hermione thought.  _ I’ve tried to get him to eat with his mouth closed for years. It looks like Neville has finally managed to tame that beast. _

“I’ll write Harry,” Ginny said, “but I’m sure he’ll agree. We have a date too,” she said with a little smile of her own.

“Do I want to know?” Ron asked, swallowing.

“Absolutely not,” his sister replied. “Now, tell us what’s going on with you Hermione? I’ve barely seen you since the term started.”

“Well, Snape is keeping me pretty busy,” Hermione started as she poured tea through a strainer and into her little cat cups.

“Tell her about the flowers,” Neville said.

Hermione hesitated, then shot Neville a warning glance. “Well, I seem to have a secret admirer. I’ve been getting flowers -- “

“No,” Neville said firmly. “Tell her about the ones you got today.”

“Nev, I --”

“Hermione, what’s going on?” Ron said, putting his cup down.

“Nothing to worry about. Really. Just some weird flowers.”

Neville rolled his eyes and snorted. “They  _ were _ weird flowers. Now they’re threatening flowers. I saw the ones in the staffroom today, Hermione. Those are a message.”

Ginny leaned in and put her hand on Hermione’s arm. “What’s going on, love? You can tell us.”

With a sigh, Hermione did just that. She explained about the cryptic notes, the white flowers, the rarity of the specimens, and finally about the Giant Hogweed and the Calla Lilies. 

Ron furrowed his brow. “What’s so weird about these most recent ones?”

“Calla lilies cause skin irritation when touched. It’s annoying, but topical. Giant Hogweed, however, has some really messed up side effects if it touches you. It’s phototoxic.” She watched as Ron sent her a questioning look. “Basically, if you expose skin that has has touched the sap of the Giant Hogweed to sunlight, it blisters, then turns black or purple. The scars can last for years. If you get smoke from a burning plant in your eyes, it can blind you.”

“Okay, so this creeper -- because let’s not kid ourselves, this guy is a creep -- sent you some vaguely terrifying plant? What’s being done about it?”

“I --” Hermione paused. “I’m not entirely sure, actually. Dumbledore is looking into it. I think maybe Severus is too. I’ll ask.”

“You mean you haven’t already?” Ron said, standing up. “Hermione, someone is threatening you!”

“To be fair, Ron, she only got the dangerous plants today. But I agree, this is something you should look into. Maybe talk to the Ministry? I’m sure Scrimgeour would be happy to help -- he does owe us for the Victory Ball fiasco.”

“Oh, sit down, Ron. Posturing isn’t going to help,” Hermione snapped. “And actually, I don’t think I should go to the Ministry right now. Severus and Albus have been trying to keep me off their radar. To keep them from pressuring me to give up he  _ Magicae Remotio _ formula -- not that I know it yet anyway.”

Ginny sighed and flopped back into her chair. “And here I was thinking that we’d be in the clear, now that Voldy-toes is gone.”

Hermione sipped a her tea with a little shrug. “Let’s face it, Gin. Compared to the last seven years, this just isn’t that big a deal.”

“The hell it’s not,” Neville muttered. “It  _ is _ a big deal, Hermione. What did that note say again? ‘Every substitute will leave you wilted and wanting?’ It sounds like an obsession, and obsessions are dangerous.”

“I’ll agree, Neville, but the notes aren’t exactly huge clues. We can’t trace them -- and yes, we’ve tried. We don’t know who wrote them. We don’t know where the flowers are coming from. And the notes themselves are written in fucking riddles. What do you want from me?”

“A little caution,” her friend bit out, suddenly fiercely protective.

“I  _ am _ being cautious,” Hermione said, standing up to pace. “Albus and Severus have instituted a check-in process with me. I rarely leave the grounds alone, and when I do I’m generally apparating the house of an Order member -- like tomorrow, when I go to visit Remus and Tonks to deliver her prenatal nutritive potions -- or to my parents’ house. And I’m not exactly defenseless either,” she finished with a raised eyebrow.

“Don’t get huffy, ‘Mione,” Ron said, folding her into a tight hug. “We just want to know that you’re safe. We love you.”

Ron’s words blew the air right out of her sails. “I know,” she said quietly. “I love you guys too.”

Ginny stood and wrapped her arms around her brother and Hermione. “Come on Neville, stop glowering get your arse over here,” she called over her shoulder. 

When the group hug ended (leaving Hermione feeling both loved and weepy), Ginny patted her shoulder. “Bring the notes to dinner with you next weekend. You may not be able to ask the Ministry for help, but your best friend is in training as an auror. He’s learning all kinds of techniques that we don’t know. Maybe he can help.”

“That’s not a bad idea, Gin,” Hermione sniffed. “I will, thanks.”

“Alright. We’ll leave you then. Thanks for the tea,” Neville said, looking awkward. 

Hermione wrapped her arm around his waist and gave him an extra hug to put him at ease. “Thanks, Nev. For everything.” She smiled at his doubting look. “Really.”

“Just be safe. There’s only one Hermione Granger, and we don’t want anything to happen to her.”

“I’ll do my best. Now shoo. I have things to do before I sleep.”   


“Night ‘Mione!” Ron said. 

“Yep! Night!” Ginny chorused. “Go dream happy dreams about French kisses, Fred, and Ferris Wheels.”

“Dammit Gin…” Ron’s voice echoed as they moved out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG, guys. I'm soooo sorry my chapters are taking so long. Long story short, I'm now working a second job part time (driving for Lyft) that frequently leaves me too exhausted to write. I'm trying, I really am, but two jobs + the summer dev cycle at my full time gig are a lot right now.
> 
> I'm going to keep writing, though. Nothing is abandoned. Just be patient with me, I beg you..


	21. Halloween

That night, Hermione did dream of Fred. She dreamt of the coolness of the autumn evening and their time at the fair, reliving their date at the fair in a technicolor world that rivaled the whirling lights and sounds of the actual event. She smiled and shifted in her sleep as she felt the breeze in her hair from the Ferris wheel. Her world was a whirl of bright lights against the night, a warm arm around her shoulders. 

She felt lips on her neck, suckling beneath her ear and sighed into the sensation. Relaxing into the kiss, she turned her lips to join with Fred’s and found that, rather than laughing brown eyes, she met the cool black eyes of her mentor. She jerked back from Snape only to find herself backed into a Giant Hogweed bush -- towering even by the plant’s standards -- and felt her skin burst into flame beneath a suddenly sunny sky. 

She shouted in her sleep as she felt her skin char and watched in horror as it blackened and shriveled on her arms. Her dream self stared at the two charcoal sticks that were once her arms as they crumbled to dust.

She groaned in pain as callused hands shook her from sleep. “Granger. Dammit Granger, wake up.”

Her eyes snapped open to see her professor leaning over her once again. “We have to stop meeting like this,” she grumbled.

“I would be inclined to agree,” he replied, pulling her upright. Hermione missed the way his normally pale face colored as he caught sight of her sleepwear -- a thin, cotton babydoll nightie whose spaghetti straps had definitely not stayed in place. “Was it a scar dream again?” he asked, distracting his baser thoughts with his reason for invading her rooms at four in the morning.

“No,” she murmured. “Just a nightmare. The flowers…” she trailed off before shaking herself resignedly. “It’s alright. I’ll be alright, I mean. I’m sorry to wake you again.”

“Hm, well. You’re lucky tomorrow is not a teaching day. Go back to sleep. We will redouble our occlumency efforts this week,” he ordered brusquely.

“Okay,” she said, tiredly snuggling under the duvet again. “G’night Severus.” She was fast asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

He stood in her room far longer than was necessary before replying. “Good night. Hermione.”

✿HG/SS✿

“Don’t you look like death warmed over,” Minerva remarked in the morning. “I do hope that’s because of your young man and not because Severus is working you to death.”

“Neither, unfortunately. Bad dreams,” Hermione said as she scaped butter onto her muffin. 

Minerva nodded sagely. “Ah, yes. I know how those work.”

“I think we all know how those work these days. Severus and Albus are working with me on Occlumency in the hopes that it will help.”

“War dreams?” Neville asked gently from her other side.

“No. Flower dreams this time. Those damned ‘bouquets’ from my so-called admirer.” 

“Yeah, about that…” Neville started to say before Severus’s hand made a sharp gesture in front of his plate.

“Not here, Longbottom. This is not the place.”

“Right. Sorry.” 

The staff returned to their meals, each lost in their own thoughts. Hermione knew that she should be worried about the flowers -- and their sender -- but she repeatedly found her thoughts wandering back to the earlier part of her dream. The feel of Snape’s lips on her neck. The warmth of his body. 

She knew it was just a dream and that such experiences had been entirely in her head, but a part of her couldn’t help but look at her mentor speculatively. 

She supposed it wasn’t surprised that Snape had made a sudden appearance in her dreamscape. He was a constant presence in her life, controlling the minutiae of her daily schedule as no professor ever had. The worked together in the classroom, in the lab, over Occlumency lessons. And he had a certain...magnetic personality, she acknowledged to herself. 

He was also a complete and utter bastard at regular intervals, but Hermione was rather used to that. Really, when you concentrated on the content of his comments rather than the tone in which they were delivered, he was usually pretty funny. 

Huh. Snape was  _ funny _ . 

And kind. All that business with the teas and the Occlumency. And coming to wake her when her nightmares took control. It certainly didn’t match up with the idea of Severus Snape that she’d built over the past seven years.

It definitely didn’t match up with Ron and Harry’s.

And he wasn’t bad looking. A change in shampoo and he might even be attractive. The nose wasn’t even that big a deal, really. And he had nice shoulders and narrow hips. He was stronger than he looked. Not a bad package, all in all.

_ Wait what am I doing?? _ Hermione’s thoughts jolted her out of her assessment of her master’s physique and temperament.  _ Is there a reason you’re eyeing your mentor as though you’re making a pro and con list as to whether or not to snog him? Eyes down, Hermione, and eat your damned breakfast before he notices something is wrong! _

 

✿HG/SS✿

 

Severus noticed that his apprentice seemed to be oddly focused on her breakfast that morning and Minerva, the catty witch, was acting equally oddly.

“Why are you smirking at your porridge, Minerva?” Severus bit off.

If anything, the smirk broadened. “You seem to be rather selectively attentive this morning, Severus.”

“Meaning?”

His old friend cleared her throat. “Meaning your Slytherins are currently in the process of prodding the Hufflepuff table into starting a food fight. Ah, too late,” she said as the first muffin winged across the hall like a crumb-laden frisbee. 

The smirk returned when he stormed off in a flurry of robes to halt the fight and assign detentions. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be helping him dear?” Minerva asked Hermione. 

“Am I?” Hermione hadn’t been a part of disciplinary procedures before.

Minerva nodded decisively. “I should think so. You will, after all, help him supervise detentions. I think this would be a good practical learning experience for you. We’ll discuss it in further detail at our pedagogy lesson later this week.”

“Of course, Minerva. I’ll just...um...get right to that then.” Hermione set her muffin down and rose to help her mentor defuse the rapidly escalating food fight. 

Ten minutes, several dodged blobs of porridge, and a croissant to the head later (crumbs and curls do not mix!), Hermione assigned her first detentions. “Warner, Parsons, and Bratfisch, you will serve detentions with Mr. Filch tonight after dinner. Bring your toothbrushes. Merryweather and Yar, you will work with me this evening. I recommend you wear robes you do not particularly value. Now get to class, all of you.”

Hermione glanced up at her mentor as the five Hufflepuffs scampered off toward their classes. From the looks of it, he’d just given several Slytherins a severe dressing down. He met her eye and gave her a terse nod of approval before removing the butter stains from his hem and making his way toward the dungeons. Hermione stared after him, tilting her head in silent near-admiration of his smooth gait.

“Coming, apprentice? Our classes will not teach themselves.”

“Right!” She stood up straight and scampered after him. 

 

✿HG/SS✿

 

Albus was halfway through yet another tedious scroll from the ministry -- begging for access to Snape’s  _ magicae remotio _ as though the headmaster had the ability to  _ give  _ it to them. With a sigh, he continued reading in case the letter contained something that he actually  _ could _ help with. A rap at the door drew him away from the frustrating letter.

“Enter.”

“Albus.”

“Minerva, how are you this morning? Classes are going well, I take it?”

She nodded and seated herself as Albus summoned their habitual tea from the kitchens. “They are doing well enough. No stand-out students, but it’s early days yet.”

“Well, that is a disappointment. But as you say, early days. Are we waiting for Filius?” he asked as he set the strainer over a cup.

“No. Whatever for?”

“I’m sorry, I assumed you were here to talk about the Halloween feast and dance. I can see that was incorrect. How can I help, Minerva?”

She set a small bag of galleons on the table. “I’m here as a representative of the faculty. We want in.”

Albus gave her a faint smile and passed over her doctored cup of tea (milk, no sugar) before preparing his own (milk, many sugars). “I beg your pardon?”

“Don’t play coy with me, Albus Dumbledore. We know that you and Phineus have a bet concerning potential romantic entanglement between Severus and Hermione. A bet between two isn’t much to sneer at, but a bet between all...well, that’s something to get excited about. Here are our bets. I’ve a list of each.” She thrust a parchment toward Albus and sipped her tea while he read it through. 

“This is a very thorough list.”

“Yes.”

“Even Hagrid placed a bit.”

“Yes.”

Albus raised an eyebrow and gestured toward the page a bit more forcefully. “He bet a blast-ended skrewt.”

“He did. I’m told this latest set of hatchlings is much more cuddly than the last. They have fur. Though it’s patchy. And mostly on their underbellies.”

“Are they still blast-ended?”

“They are.” She sipped again, favoring her long-time partner in crime with a smile. “Do we have a deal?”   


The older wizard sighed before rolling the scroll and tapping it with his wand. It briefly glowed orange before it, and the bag of galleons, floated out of the room and into, Minerva assumed, one of the headmaster’s many hidden caches. “We do.”

Minerva set her cup down with a clink. “Excellent. Then I’ll bid you a good morning Albus.”

 

✿HG/SS✿

 

As Halloween drew closer, Hermione found herself growing more tense. Albus had planned a Halloween feast and alumni ball to celebrate the fall of Tom Riddle and his ilk. While Hermione was all for celebration, she was also more than b it aware that the last attempt to claim victory-through-dance had resulted in the mass hexing of nearly all her friends and teachers. 

Nevertheless, maintaining a castle meant that the school needed donations and donations did not come from current students. As the two students relaunching the Hogwarts apprentice programme, Hermione and Neville were expected to be on display. That display was what worried Hermione most. Between avoiding the Ministry’s attention and trying to puzzle out who’d been sending her the flowers -- as well as her normal routine, preparing for the press at the ball, and trying to find time to see Fred -- Hermione was feeling more than a bit stressed.

All the same, when the evening of the ball finally arrived Hermione was just a bit excited. Ginny had kidnapped her the previous weekend to find yet another dress. Hopefully this one wouldn’t end up cursed to shreds and covered in blood. She’d opted for a burnt umber color this time ‘round. She didn’t want to dress in typical Halloween colors, but the warm tone flattered her skin and seemed autumnal to her. She paired the chiffon halter dress with coppery heels and jewelry and thought the effect was both sophisticated and sexy, while still remaining appropriate for the a school apprentice.

It didn’t hurt that the outfit would compliment her ginger haired escort either.

“Hey love,” Fred said with a grin, giving her a loose hug to avoid mussing her. “You look stunning.”

“Thanks, Fred. You look pretty dapper yourself.” He really did His hair was slicked back in a loose wave, avoiding the pinned-back look Percy was prone to, and his black dress robes fit him well. Hermione contained a little sigh at the dragon skin lapels, but...well, Fred would be Fred. 

“Shall we?” he asked, offering an arm. She nodded and allowed him to escort him into the Great Hall, where the evening’s feast was already laid out. She ignored the blatant wolf whistles from the upper years of her own house as they moved through the room. 

All the guests were seated at the front part of each house table; escorts and dates of the staff were allowed to sit at the expanded head table. Hermione and Fred took a seat at the far end, near Ron and Neville, and listened to Dumbledore’s speech welcoming the alumni back to Hogwarts. He stressed the importance of rebuilding after Voldemort and of the ties each witch and wizard owed to Hogwarts. He also asked for them to be generous of heart and of wallet when donations were solicited, pointing to the newly revived apprentice programme and the future of the wizarding world (the seated children) as examples of those most benefitting from charitable donation. 

Dumbledore’s speech was thankfully short. He ended with a genial smile and an invitation for everyone to tuck into the feast, which the visiting alumni seemed to do with gusto. Hermione allowed Fred to serve her a portion of ham as she served them both potatoes au gratin from the communal dish. 

Once the younger students had been sent to bed, the seventh years, guests, and staff rose to allow the Minerva and Filius to vanish the tables. They were quickly replaced by smaller cocktail tables, a refreshment stand, and a small bandstand for what appeared to be a ten piece orchestra. The ball had officially begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, it's a long time coming and it's rather short. I've been working on this off and on for a few weeks now. No guarantees on the next post, but hopefully I'll be back on a more regular schedule as this month finishes.


	22. Destined to be...

Severus was bored. No, he was  _ annoyed _ and bored. Another dance. Another attempt to wring galleons from Malfoys and Notts and Parkinsons (oh my). Another tedious evening of avoid Scrimgeour and his ilk as they pressed,  _ again _ , for access to the  _ magicae remotio  _ \-- they’d even begun hinting at the possibility of an Order of Merlin, as if that would somehow be an enticement rather than another reason to put his scrawny arse on display to the public. He’d sicced Dumbledore on them and was pleased to see the Headmaster leading them around the room, gesturing with his wand and inundating them with his own personal brand of innocuous bibble babble.

Even Severus could admit that the elder wizard was a genius at deception and misdirection. He was grateful that the skill was directed away from him this evening, leaving him to sip his wine alone. Now if only he could escape the inanities of a fundraising gala.

The worst of it was that he had to watch his apprentice flit around the room with her date. He observed --  _ dispassionately,  _ he told himself -- as she bent her head toward Fred “I couldn’t be serious if they threatened to kill me” Weasley in that delicious excuse for a dress. It draped over her body like a sheet of bronze in the dull light, highlighting the fact that Hermione Granger was a full grown witch indeed.

He was certainly not unaffected, though the admission cost him.

He doubted a ten day dead wizard possessed by an inferi would be unaffected.

There wasn’t enough wine in the room for his tastes.

 

✿HG/SS✿

Hermione was bored. No, she was  _ annoyed _ and bored. What had started out as a wonderful evening had quickly devolved into something she privately thought of as one-half the Fred and George show. 

She wanted to dance. She’d purchased her dress specifically so that her date could whirl her around the floor. According to the witch at the shop, the chiffon would float and she could dance all night with nary a sweat stain. But here Hermione was, watching Fred sneak toward the punch bowl after a ten minute long, heated argument about whether it was a good idea to spike the punch with babbling brew. She was decidedly NOT in favor.

Fred, of course, would not be gainsaid and off he traipsed toward bowl of vibrant purple liquid. 

Some (such as Molly) would say that boys will be boys, but Hermione was firmly of the opinion that boys who run a business and are community figures should grow up just a bit. Or should at least not spike the punch at a blood fundraiser.

Grumpy in general with the infantile actions of her date, Hermione turned and caught her mentor’s eye. She gave Severus a cheery smile and a wave only to receive a sneer and eyeroll in return. Lovely.

_And what were you expecting, Hermione?_ Snape had barely sneered two words at her for the week unless it was to give her directions.

Fred returned, filled with the exuberance of pranking success and with Lee Jordan in tow. “Hi Lee,” Hermione greeted the alumn gracefully. She noted that he passed a flask of -- well, she wasn’t sure what of, but the smell could have felled a hippogriff at twenty paces. Lee himself seemed thoroughly intoxicated, though he didn’t  _ smell _ particularly drunk.

“Hermione!” Lee returned, reaching over to hug her. “You look smashing. May I have this dance?” He grinned invitingly as Fred sipped from the flask once again before Lee grabbed it back and tucked it into his robes.

“Oh, well I was hoping to dance with Fr --”

“Go on, Hermione,” Fred said cheerily. “I’ll just sit here and chat with…” he looked around. “Oi! Angelina! How’s life with the Harpies?” he shouted across the room.

Hermione took Lee’s arm and allowed him to lead her out onto the floor. 

“You really do look great tonight, Granger,” Lee said again. “I knew you cleaned up well and all, but this,” he said running a hand down her arm. “Wow.”

Hermione frowned at Lee and deliberately shrugged her shoulder, moving his hand back into its proper position. “Thank you,” she replied stiffly, observing her partner closely. He had a strange, almost manic look in his eye -- not something that she was used to seeing on the wizard’s face. He stumbled a bit as she made eye contact.

“Lee, are you feeling alright? You don’t seem quite the thing.”

There was sweat beading on his forehead as he responded to her query. “Nnn--yes. Just a bit warm in here.”

“I’m perfectly comfortable.”

Lee shook his head in negative and tightened his grip on her arms “Maybe we should go outside for some air.”

Hermione pulled back from as much as she could without making a scene. “Lee, it’s -1 out there. I’m fine where I am, thank you.”

“I really think you should come outside.”

“I said no, Lee. I think I’d like to go back to Fred now.” She turned to do just that as a scream rent the air.

 

✿HG/SS✿

Severus watched the crowd dancing with a gimlet eye, choosing not to partake in either the punch (clearly spiked) or the dancing (insipid without the right partner). Instead, he sipped at a glass of wine and watched couples whirl past him, pretending all the while that he  _ wasn’t _ watching his apprentice. 

Because he wasn’t. Not at all.

“Severus, dear. Why aren’t you dancing?” asked Minerva at his elbow.

His response was terse. “Because I don’t care to. Clearly.” 

“Well, that’s no way to entice donors to open their wallets. What about Mrs. Whigsblossom over there? She looks like she could use a turn about the floor, and heaven knows her husband can’t dance in his condition. Go on.” She gave her friend a playful little nudge with her hip.

“Minerva, I’ll ask you to leave it alone. I have no desire to dance this evening, and so I shall not. Be. Dancing.”

The elder witch rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to respond just as a shriek sounded across the room. “Fred!” Angelina Johnson cried out as the redheaded twin collapsed on the floor.

Hermione’s voice echoed as the music ground to an abrupt halt and she scampered across the room, leaving her partner looking on angrily from the dance floor. 

Severus rushed forward, shouldering his way through the crowd that seemed to have materialized out of nothingness at the sound of Angelina’s cry. When we was near, he saw that the whites of the twin’s eyes had turned a putrid green and that a bloodied foam was coming from his mouth. 

“Get Poppy,” Severus barked at Minerva, leaning forward to place two fingers on Weasley’s pulse. “Now, woman!” He drew his wand and immediately cast  _ petrificus partialis  _ on the boy’s upper body before beginning a series of diagnostic spells.

“Repulsion Draught...and I think Sickening Syrup mixed with Firewhiskey. That’s a bloody deadly combination. The wormwood and ribhorn will combine with the hart’s tongue and--”

“And create a hyperacidic foam. I can see the blisters already. But I think there’s an anti-imetic in there too. Look at the hook here,” Hermione said, pointing toward the runes floating over Fred’s body. “He won’t be able to vomit it up and it’s too acidic to metabolize. He’ll be like a horse. He’ll colic.” Hermione hiccupped as she tried to stem her tears.

“Not if the acid eats through his digestive system first,” Severus muttered darkly. “Nothing for it. Hermione --” he turned to her and saw her knuckling away the tears that were now dripping onto the silk of her dress. “ _ Hermione _ . I need you to pull yourself together. Run to the lab. Get the Sowthistle Tincture and mix it with two parts Tormentil.”

“ _ Tormentil?  _ Are you crazy? That will --”

“Not if we dilute it with the tincture, then add ten drops of the concentrated _ Carapichea ipecacuanha _ essence that’s on the top shelf of my personal stores and cool until ice crystals from on the top of the vial. Don’t argue. GO!” He saw her nod, bracing herself before levering up and running from the Great Hall. “Someone get Jordan over here,” he ordered. “I need to know what was in his flask.”

  
“He’s gone, sir,” Angelina Johnson replied tearfully. Severus turned just in time to see Lee Jordan leaving the hall. He could have sworn that the dreadlocks on the boy’s head were slowly lightening to a dark blonde. “Fuck,” he muttered.  _ Polyjuice. _

He looked down at the frozen boy in front of him and decided there was nothing for it. He flicked his wand to levitate the body and stormed out of the hall with it floating behind. A path cleared for him like Moses parting the red sea, shock reflected in the faces of the gathered professors and guests. He ignored them all as he stormed toward the infirmary.

 

✿HG/SS✿

Hermione fought her way through the building panic attack as she moved through the laboratory. She chucked her shoes -- damned impractical heels -- into the corner as she measured out the proportions described by her mentor and funneled them into a cold-proof container, then blasted it with her wand until the aforementioned ice crystals began to form on top. 

She capped the potion and ran for the infirmary.

 

✿HG/SS✿

  
Severus watched as Hermione flew into the infirmary with a bottle of muddy brown liquid in her hand taking it from her while sparing a glance at her feet. “Good god, girl. Where are your shoes?”

“I can’t run in heels,” she replied. “Is he alright?” she asked, glancing at the bed that housed her half-petrified boyfriend behind its filmy curtains. 

“We’re about to find out. Poppy? You have the basin?” 

The mediwitch nodded grimly, tying an oilcloth apron over her normally pristine robes. Hermione peered at the bed and saw that Fred had been set in a sitting position and a basin placed in his lap. That horrible foam had been wiped from his face, but a slightly pink stain remained with browning blisters beneath.

She watched as Severus poured the liquid out of the phial and into Fred’s mouth, taking care to massage his throat so that the liquid could pass into his stomach. “Stand back,” he said lowly. “This will be messy.”

As soon as Hermione stepped back, he released the petrification. Fred immediately began to retch, vomiting blood red liquid into the basin. A putrid stench filled the room and Hermione rushed to open a window and allow clean air to flow through the space.

“That it, Mr. Weasley. Get it all out,” Poppy was murmuring, brushing his hair back from his head. Severus stood nearby, ready to proffer a glass of water and a regeneration potion when the boy had finished expelling the more noxious potion. 

It was a solid ten minutes before Fred was able to speak, and even then it was with a rasp.

“What the devil just happened?” he asked, bloodshot eyes wide.

“I believe I may have an answer to that, Mr. Weasley.” Dumbledore stood in the door to the infirmary, the twinkle in his eye long gone and a look of fury on his face. “This was just delivered for you, Hermione.”

Hermione reached out and plucked the card out of the headmaster’s hands and opened it. She watched as a cluster of hemlock petals fell to the floor, revealing the now-familiar writing beneath that read _You are destined to be mine._

  
  



End file.
